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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 






A TOTTCH OF NEW ENGLAND 


MARY WOODMAN 


Backward^ turn backward, oh Time ! in 
your flight, 

Make me a child again just for to-nightT 



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The Mistress of the Household 


A TOUCH OF 
NEW ENGLAND 

AN OLD-FASHIONED STORE 
FOR rOUNG AND OLD HEARTS 

/BY 

MARY WOODMAN 



PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED 
BOSTON 

J. G. CUPPLES, Publisher 

MCMIII 


PRINTED FOR THE SUBSCRIBERS 


THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

MAY 12 1903 

Copyright Entry 


q 0 3 

CLASSO CO XXc. No, 



Copyright, 1903, 

J. G. Cupples 

'All Rights Reserved 


First Edition 


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AUTHOR’S PREFACE 


The story found ivithin these pages is 
the annals of a New England home circle. 
Nearly all of the members of the family 
whose lights and shadows, joys and sor- 
roivs, form the foundation for the memo- 
ries pictured hy me here hare long lain side 


PREFACE 


hy side in that quiet God's acre, away 
from the noisy tumidt of life, where against 
its portal is this inscription: 

^^When the day breaks, and the shadows flee 
away.^^ 

With joy and sadness, mingled with 
tears and smiles, I have ivritten my story, 
clothing it in the every-day language of 
my young days, and hecause of that every- 
day language heg my friends to he chari- 
table in their criticism, more especially 
asking them to overlook the lack of the 
wildly impossible {never in keeqnng ivith 
New England ideals), found in works of 
emotional fiction. That my book may 
secure its place on the family book-shelf 
and be cherished in certain homes as a 
household favorite of the old-fashioned 
kind, is in me to hope as a pleasing pos- 
sibility despite faults of ivhich I am very 
conscious. 

To all those who have encouraged me in 
my task, particularly Mr. W. R. Cutter, 
a distinguished American librarian, my 
warmest thanks are due. 



C O N T E N T S 


CHAP. PAGE 



Preface 

9 

I. 

The Old Homestead . 

19 

II. 

The Birthday Party . . 

35 

III. 

The Fourth of July . . 

61 

IV. 

School-Days and Vacation, 

83 

V. 

The Picnic Over the River, 

105 



CONTENTS 

CHAV. PAGE 

VI. Christmas 128 

VII. New Year’s Day — The 

Sleigh Ride . . . . 141 

VIII. Kate’s Visit in the Coun- 
try — The Indians’ 

Grave 165 

IX. Kate in Her Mother’s 

Old Home . . . . 187 

X. Letters from Kate . . 207 

XI. Mrs. Westburne’s Last 
Visit to Her Old 

Home 227 

XII. The Mother’s Death . 249 

XIII. Arthur Morse and Ruth 

Westhurne’s Death . 269 

XIV. Toe and Dick Go to the 

War — Joe Dies . . 285 

XV. Alice and Kate Marry — 

Mr. Westburne Dies . 808 

XVI. Conclusion 817 



ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

The Mistress of the Household 

Frontispiece 

Kate Titlepage 

The Spinning-wheel .... 8 

The Old Desk Preface 

Interior of the Old Meeting-House 1 1 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Colonial Oaken Chair .... 13 

The Old Homestead .... 19 

Past Members of the Westburne 

Family 21 

‘ ‘ What is More Beautiful than 
Our New England Twilight?” 
(From the Painting by J. 
Appleton Brown) .... 23 

“ An Elderly Person Whom We 

Will Call Nurse Ashby ” . . 25 

The Old Cloek in the Hall . . 29 

Grandmamma’s Band-box . . 32 

The Long Parlor Fireside ... 35 

The Water Babes of Oldbury . 37 

A Happy Group 46 

The Old Village Church ... 50 

“The Old Man Threatened to 
Give Every Boy in Town a 

Cowhiding” 54 

Where Deacon Moody Held 

Forth 56 

Alice . 58 

Up Before Sunrise 61 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGK 

Wondering What the Boys Were 

At 66 

“What Makes the Country Look 

So Beautiful ? ” 70 

Watching and Waiting ... 78 

Betsy Shaw 80 

“ Not a Fashionable Beach ” . 83 

“The Sea Was So Placid ” . . 88 

Kate in a Petulant Mood ... 92 

Good-night 97 

“As Brown as Gypsies ” . . . 102 

Happy School Days . . . . 105 

A Well Remembered Spot . . 120 

Carrying in the Dinner . . . 123 

The Christmas Tree . . . . 128 

Ancestral Portraits 134 

The Mayflower Inscription . . 141 

Grandmamma Hale 161 

The Farm House at Glenfield . 165 

Uncle Nathan’s Indian . . . 184 

Grandpapa’s Chaise 187 

Where Grandpapa Lived . . . 188 

Caleb’s Horses 203 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Glenfield Meeting-House . . . 204 

‘ ‘ A Beautiful Girl of Eighteen 

Years ” 207 

The Picture that Came from 

France 223 

The Stage-coach 227 

The Little Red School- House . 229 

God’s Acre 249 

The Ancient Pump and the An- 
cient Town-crier 252 

The Doctor Calls 259 

The Mistress of the Household 

in Marble 265 

Ruth and Arthur 269 

The Old Method ..... 278 

Interior of the Little Red School- 

House 282 

Family Relics 285 

An Oldbury Saint Crispian . . 296 

The Old House in the Woods . 303 

The Colonial Grave Stone . . 314 

The Light of Other Days . . 317 


THE OLD HOMESTEAD 


‘ The old homestead I*ve not forgot, 
Half hid among the trees, — 

Its gable roof and garden spot. 
And sweet refreshing breeze T 



A TOUCH OF 

NEW ENGLAND 


CHAPTER I. 

THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 

I T was at the close of a bright, 
calm day long ago in the month 
of June, that a travelling carriage 
might have been seen slowly ascending 
a hill which overlooked Oldbury, an 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD 


historic spot, rich in far-back Puritan 
lore, situated on one of the picturesque 
bends of the Merrimac River known 
to some as the ‘ ‘ old gray town by the 
northern sea.” The occupants of the 
carriage were a lady of about thirty- 
eight, and a gentleman, the latter a few 
years her senior, of large and manly 
form, with laughing blue eyes, and 
fresh, open countenance. His com- 
panion was small and delicate, a wist- 
ful expression centered in her earnest 
hazel eyes, where perhaps had never 
rested a ray of peevishness. Mr. West- 
burne was returning to his home after 
a winter sojourn in the South. He 
had taken the long trip flushed by the 
hope that a warmer, sunnier climate 
would restore his wife’s health. 

They had been silent for some time. 
Moved by a new thought, an anxious 
look came over the face of Mr. West- 
burne as he glanced at the pale face 
20 



Past Members of the Westburne 

Family 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD 


beside him. With suppressed emotion 
he put his arm tenderly around her. 
Leaning her head upon his shoulder, 
responsively stirred by this aetion, she 
asked, in happy tone, — 

‘ ‘ Are we almost home ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” he replied. “Look! we 
have reached the top of the hill, and 
see how finely, yea, lovingly, the sun- 
set clouds hang over the dear, old town. 
What is more beautiful than our New 
England twilight, or its scenery? Drive 
faster, Sam, or we will not reach home 
till midnight! ” 

While the travellers are on the road, 
let us go before them and catch a 
glimpse of the old homestead with its 
inmates. In the higher part of the 
town we enter an avenue, and see, half 
hidden by a row of maple trees, the 
gable-roof of the house, and its wide 
porch. Honeysuckle and ivy climb 
around its piazza and windows, giving 
22 


What is More Beautiful than Our New England 



J ■ i>i '-W --.'Ji U»» ^ >% • *«;•. (• < «'.,y.^ ^ ..V 




THE OLD HOMESTEAD 


to the mansion a cheerful, homelike 
appearance. In one corner of the house 
is the sitting-room, and here we find 
five children under the care of an 
elderly person, whom we will call Nurse 
Ashby. 

“Oh, Nurse! do you think they 
will come to-night ? ” asked Kate, the 
youngest girl. “You know day after 
to-morrow is my birthday. ’ ’ 

“Aren’t you a most selfish little 
pig, Kate ? So you actually want a 
birthday present! ’’ exclaimed Joe, the 
oldest boy, putting on an assumed air 
of great wisdom, adding, ‘ ‘ I shall cer- 
tainly be glad to see our father back 
again and give you precious girls into 
his charge. Anyhow, I guess I de- 
serve a good big reward for my pains 
in that direction. ’ ’ 

“ Well, you got a real nice reward 
yesterday when I boxed your ears for 
picking the frosting from the birthday- 
24 



‘ ‘ An Elderly Person Whom W e 
Will Call Nurse Ashby ” 





THE OLD HOMESTEAD 

cake Aunt Mary sent to Kate, ’ ’ replied 
Alice. 

“ Yes, ” cried little Tommy, lifting 
his curly head from the sofa. ‘ ‘ All last 
winter almost every night when Joe 
came to bed he pushed me out of my 
warm side. Each time he did that I 
woke up. Now, if Kate is a selfish 
pig, then Joe’s a sly old fox.” 

“Oh, children, don’t call each other 
such names ! How it would grieve 
Mother and Father if they should hear 
you ! This is the first time they have 
ever left us ! Only think how dreadful 
it would be if we were orphans. I 
do hope that mamma is better, ” said 
Ruth. 

The sister’s words had the desired 
effect. Kate and Tommy hid their 
faces in the sofa pillows. 

‘ ‘ Come, children, let us see who will 
hear the carriage first,” said Nurse 
Ashby. And while they are listening, 
26 


THE OLD HOMESTEAD 


I will give my readers a description of 
the group. 

Ruth was seventeen, with large, 
dreamy eyes, a sweet, sensitive mouth, 
wavy hair, and a slender, graceful fig- 
ure. Alice was fair, with gray eyes, a 
decided mouth, thick brown hair, which 
hung in braids below her waist: her 
chief beauty was her small hands and 
feet, and her greatest annoyance the 
freckles on her cheeks. Joseph, or Joe 
as he was generally called, was a stout 
boy of thirteen, with pretty blue eyes 
and light hair. Kate had a small, round 
face, with bright, light brown eyes, a 
mouth that was always showing the 
dimples in her cheeks, and hair cut 
short, like her brothers. Tommy was 
a robust little fellow of nine years, and 
resembled his father. 

“ Oh, Bridget ! don’t bring the lights 
yet, it is so pleasant to sit in the twi- 
light with the windows open. The 
27 


THE OLD HOMESTEAD 


lights bring mosquitog, ,and my face 
has specks enough without mosquito- 
bites, ” ejaculated Alice. 

“You had better light the hall-lamp, 
Bridget, and see that supper is ready 
when Mr. W estburne comes ; they will 
be tired and hungry,” said Nurse. 

‘ ‘ Faith, to be sure that they will, and 
me poor dear missus; St.* Patrick bjess 
her sweet soul ! A good cup of tay and 
a good night’s rest will she want.” 
And Bridget bustled out of the room. 

Ruth fetched forth her father’s dress- 
ing-gown, while Alice routed Kate and 
Tommy from the sofa, shook the pil- 
lows, and made it comfortable for their 
mother’s coming. 

Joe stretched himself under a table, 
and Tommy took refuge in Nurse’s lap, 
while Kate leaned out of the window 
to listen. 

‘ ‘ They are coming ! I hear the 
sound of the wheels,” shouted Kate; 

28 



The Old Clock in the Hall 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD 


and away she flew with Joe and Tommy 
at her heels. 

‘ ‘ Mamma ! papa ! ’ ’ screamed the ex- 
cited children ; and soon they were 
clasped in loving arms. 

Kate cried and laughed at the same 
time. Tommy clung to his father’s 
neck, while Joe contented himself with 
a kiss. 

There was as much love but less agi- 
tation in the embraces of Ruth and 
Alice. 

“ How happy I am to see this room 
and my dear children again! ” mur- 
mured Mrs. Wesburne with a happy 
sigh, when Ruth had laid aside the 
dusty wrapper and was putting the cool 
slippers on her feet, as she lay on the 
sofa. 

“ There’s no place like home, and to 
know how to appreciate a good home, 
a man ought to travel awhile, and live 
in hotels and boarding-houses,” ob- 
30 


THE OLD HOMESTEAD 


served Mr. Westburne, whilst putting 
on his dressing-gown. 

“ Supper never tasted so good be- 
fore! ” fervently exclaimed Tommy, as 
the last spoonful of strawberry jam 
disappeared into his small mouth. 

The old clock in the hall struck 
ten, and the children’s heads began to 
droop. 

Ruth went to the piano and played 
one of her mother’s favorite songs, — 

My childhood home, and thee. 

The good-night kiss was given, and 
the children were soon in the land of 
dreams. 

Ruth and Alice could not disre- 
gard their mother’s pale face, and their 
father’s watchful eye. 

“ Mamma reminded me of Aunt 
Jane to-night,” said Alice. 

“But mother has no cough, and 
Aunt Jane had,” pleaded Ruth. 

31 


THE OLD HOMESTEAD 


Nurse Ashby entered the room, as 
was her custom. 

“ Oh, dear, dear Nurse! tell us what 
you think of mamma, ’ ’ cried Ruth. 

“ I think, my dearies, your mother 
is very weary, and a good night's rest 
will refresh her. I am sure you will 
find her better to-morrow. 

Nurse Ashby was a widow, and had 
long lived in the Westburne family, 
in fact, since Ruth was born ; she was 
so gentle and motherly with the chil- 
dren that Mrs. AVesburne found it im- 
possible to think of parting with her. 



THE BIRTHDAY 


PART^ 


“ When first our scanty years are told, 

It seems like pastime to grow old ; 

And as youth counts the shining links 
That time around us hinds so fast, 
Pleased loith the task, loe little think 
How hard that chain loill press at lastT 



CHAPTEH II. 

THE BIRTHDAY PARTY. 

W HY, how you have grown! 

exclaimed Mrs. W estburne as 
Kate entered her mother’s 
room the next morning. 

“Yes, mamma. Nurse says that all 
the tucks in my dresses must be taken 
out. Joe says I run so much, I shall 
be as tall as Bridget ; beside, you know, 
mamma, I shall be eleven years old 


THE* BIRTHDAY PARTY 


to-morrow. Nurse has made me a new 
white dress trimmed with lace, and the 
sleeves are looped with blue ribbon; 
and with my blue sash I shall look just 
lovely to-morrow! ” 

As Nurse Ashby had said, a night’s 
rest had quite refreshed the invalid, 
whose lively greeting and bright smile, as 
she entered the breakfast- room, cheered 
the hearts of Alice and Ruth. 

After breakfast the girls told their 
mother the plans they had made for 
Kate’s birthday. 

“ I thought, if you had no objection, 
I would invite Mrs. Morse and Dora 
in the afternoon, and Mr. Morse and 
Arthur could come to tea,” said Ruth. 

‘ ‘ Certainly ; it would be very pleas- 
ant. Call Sam, and send the invita- 
tion at once. I bought each of you a 
dress in New York. I hope you will 
like them, ’ ’ said Mrs. W estburne, open- 
ing her trunk. 


36 


The Water Babes of Oldbury 


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THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


“ Oh, how beautiful! ” exclaimed the 
girls, examining the soft gray mate- 
rial; ‘‘and one for Kate. What a 
lovely blue, — just what she has been 
wanting 1 What ’ s that ? ’ ’ 

“ Some cloth to make suits for Joe 
and Tommy; a dress for Nurse, one for 
Bridget, and a couple of flannels for 
Sam. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ How thoughtful you are, mamma, 
not to forget any one, ’ ’ said Alice. 

‘ ‘ The way to be happy, is to make 
others happy, ’ ’ replied her mother. 

The trunks were emptied, and the 
drawers arranged, when Bridget entered 
to put the room in order. 

“A new dress for you, a present 
from mamma, Biddy ! ’ ’ cried Alice. 

“ Och, honey! me missis is too good 
to the likes o’ me, plase, yer honor. 
I’ll sarve ye faithfully to the end o’ me 
days! ” exclaimed the honest Irish girl. 

“Many happy birthdays,” shouted 
38 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


Joe, the next morning, behind Kate’s 
chair at the breakfast-table, and pulling 
her ears. 

‘‘ Oh, Joe, don’t be so rude! now my 
ears will look like a rooster’s comb all 
day,” continued Kate. “I’m the only 
one in the family whose birthday has a 
public celebration every year. 

“ How is that? ” asked Joe. 

“ Oh, you ignorant boy ! haven’t you 
studied the history of your country? 
Don’t you know that the battle of 
Bunker Hill was fought on the 17th 
of Jime, and that I was born on that 
day? ” said Kate, with a proud toss of 
her little head, as she sipped her coffee. 

‘ ‘ Born while the battle was going 
on, sure? ” jeeringly answered Joe, 
bursting into a loud laugh, and drop- 
ping his bread and butter. 

“ I mean that I was born on the 17th 
of June, eleven years ago,” replied 
Kate, with dignity. 

39 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


‘‘ Why didn’t you say so, then? ” 

“ Be quiet, Joe, and eat your break- 
fast, or I’ll send you away from the 
table, ’ ’ said his father. 

Sam, with the boys’ help, placed a 
long table in the large summer-house. 
Ruth and Alice spread the snow-white 
cloth, and arranged in vases the sweet 
June roses and pinks, which seemed to 
bow and smile, and send forth their 
sweetest fragrance in honor of the day. 
Kate looked, as she said, “just lovely. ” 
Joe was on his best behavior. He and 
Tommy were looking forward to the 
feast and the evening games. 

‘ ‘ Kate ! ’ ’ shouted Tommy, running 
into the summer-house, ‘ ‘ Hattie Gage, 
Ellen Gray, and Annie Foster have 
come. ’ ’ 

Kate took her little schoolmates to 
her room to see her presents. Ruth’s 
embroidered slippers were tried on. 
Alice’s copy of Mrs. Hemans's Poems 
40 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


with its blue and gilt covers, was 
examined and admired. Nurse’s red 
knit shawl was considered a beauty, 
and little Tommy’s album, with the 
photograph of his bright little face, 
was sweet. While they were chatter- 
ing, other children entered the room, 
followed by Jack Gray, Tommy, and 
Joe bringing a large paper parcel. 

“ What have you there, Joe? ” asked 
Kate. 

“ A ‘ Bunker Hill Monument ’ bank. 
I thought you would like one for your 
pennies, to celebrate the day you were 
born and when that famous battle was 
fought,” and here Joe displayed a min- 
iature monument of carved wood, cov- 
ered with gilt bands. 

“Oh, how beautiful!” exclaimed 
Kate. 

“I bought it at Lee’s fancy store. 
He purchased a number in Charlestown 
last year, and this was the only one left. 

41 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


The summer-house, with the sunlight 
dancing through the vines and flowers, 
the sweet fragrance of the June roses, 
and the grand old trees with the merry 
birds, gave a charm to the scene, and 
enlivened the children’s play. 

‘‘Let us go on the hill and play 
ball! ” shouted Jack. 

Tommy ran for the bats and balls. 
Instead of whirling the balls into the 
air the girls would often send them 
down hill. 

Jumping the rope was the next 
amusement, but the boys were as 
clumsy swinging the rope as the girls 
had been with the bats. 

It was a happy group of bright faces 
that gathered around the table in the 
long, cool summer-house. Exercise 
had sharpened their appetites. How 
good the plum-cake, tarts, and sand- 
wiches tasted; and the boys enjoyed 
the fun of leaping over each other’s 
42 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


backs, eating cookies and drinking 
lemonade, between the pauses. When 
all had eaten enough, Joe arose, with a 
glass of lemonade, and shouted, ‘ ‘ Many 
happy birthdays, Kate ! and three 
cheers for the 17th of June!” and 
every one’s health was drunk in 
lemonade. 

“ Now I will tell 3 mur fortune! ” ex- 
claimed Kate, taking a little book from 
her pocket, and turning her eyes to her 
little schoolmates. 

‘ ‘ What a way Kate has of rolling 
her eyes! ” said Jack. 

‘ ‘ That is the force of habit, ’ ’ laughed 
Joe. “ I once read of a man who had 
such a habit of bowing that he would 
bow to his horse, and thank the beast 
after he had dismounted ; beg pardon 
of a puppy for treading on its tail; and 
one day, as he fell over the door-scraper, 
he took off his hat and apologized for 
his inattention, ’ ’ 


43 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


“ Be quiet, Joe,” said Kate. 

“ Come, Annie, choose some number 
to twelve when I ask you a question. 

‘ ‘ Whom do you intend to marry ? ’ ’ 
‘‘Three.” 

“ A chimney-sweeper. ” 

“ Oh, 1 won’t have my fortune told. ’ ’ 
‘ ‘ Do, ’ ’ laughed Hattie. 

“Of course it isn’t true! Go on, 
Kate.” 

‘ ‘ What is his height ? ’ ’ 

^‘Five.” 

‘ ‘ Six and a half feet. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ A giant ! how will he go up chim- 
ney? ” asked Jack. 

What is the color of his eyes ? ’ ’ 

“ Seven.” 

“Black.” 

“With soot,” laughed Joe. 

“ How old is he? ” 

“Nine.” 

“ Eighty-five. ” 

“ Oh, horrors! ” shouted Ellen. 

44 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


“ Where did you first see him? ” 
‘‘Six.” 

“ On the roof of the house. ” 

' ‘ What was he doing ? ’ ’ 

“Four.” 

“ Saying his prayers. ” 

“ Where shall you live? ” 

“Two.” 

“ In a pig-sty. ” 

“ Graeious, how I shall enjoy life! ” 
laughed Annie. 

Leaving the children at their play we 
will enter the house. The wide porch- 
door was open, admitting a soft breeze, 
sweet with the odor of the honey-suckle. 
In the long parlor, with its fine old- 
fashioned furniture, ancient family por- 
traits, and a few valuable paintings 
adorning the walls, sat Ruth, Alice, 
and Dora Morse who were conversing 
in one of the deep window-seats. 

Mrs. Westburne was reclining in an 
arm-chair; and by her side sat her inti- 
45 





A Happy Group 





THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


mate friend, Mrs. Morse, who had just 
finished reading Longfellow’s Evan- 
geline. 

Meditating upon the poem, an hour 
went by, finally Mrs. Westburne ex- 
elaimed : 

“ True happiness can never be found 
in this world without the pure and ele- 
vating power of religion. When the 
soul can see and enjoy God in all His 
works, when we love to commune with 
Him and feel that peace which the 
world cannot give, then we know what 
is true happiness. All nature proclaims 
that God is love.” And as the poet 
says: 

Thus my Creator ^ thus the more, 

My spirit's wing to Thee can soar ; 
The more she triumphs to hehold, 

Thy love in all Thy ivorks unfold, 
And hids her hymns of rapture he 
Most glad when rising most to Thee ! ” 
47 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


‘‘Yes, the heart that ean praise God 
in adversity, as well as in prosperity, is 
truly happy. How thankful I am that 
Arthur has ehosen the ministry to labor 
for God, and not for the perishing 
things of the world,” said Mrs. Morse. 
The entranee of her husband and 
Arthur, followed by Mr. Westburne, 
put an end to the eonversation. 

Edward W estburne and Philip Morse 
had been friends from boyhood, and 
had entered business together. Arthur 
and Dora were Philip Morse’s only 
children. Ruth and Arthur had been 
attached to each other from childhood. 
They attended school at the same acad- 
emy, and during the long winter even- 
ings they studied the same lessons in 
the pleasant sitting-room, or talked of 
the future by the cheerful wood-fire 
that burned in the enormous fireplace. 
What castles they built ! What plans 
they laid ! Alas ! never to be fulfilled. 

48 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


How the expressions coming from her 
pure heart animated him along the path 
he had chosen ! 

The early tea was over, and they had 
returned to the parlor. 

‘ ‘ So Arthur goes to Princeton. He 
is not looking as well as he did last 
summer,” remarked Mr. Westburne. 

“ He has studied too much, and 
needs a rest. Don’t you remember, 
Ned, how thin I was when I was 
Arthur’s age? ” 

“Yes; but it wasn’t hard study, 
Phil, that made you thin, it was the 
midnight vigils; and with your long, 
sober face no one suspected you,” 
laughed Mr. Westburne. 

“Do you remember that night we 
tied the old white horse to the bell- 
rope of the old church ? ’ ’ 

“ How was that ? ” asked Mrs. 
Morse. 

“ Well, you know my father was the 
49 





The Old Village Church 








THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


pastor of what was then called the old 
village church. The old church which 
was pulled down stood in the grave- 
yard opposite the place where the new 
church now stands. Green, the sex- 
ton, had an old white horse, named 
Billy, who was lame, and blind in one 
eye; always half starved, and wander- 
ing about the fields and roads. One day 
Ned and I wanted some fun. I caught 
the horse in the afternoon, and tied him 
in the wood-shed. Ned, who knew 
that the key hung under the qld man’s 
hat in the entry, went to Green’s house, 
and putting the key into his pocket, 
he slipped out, and stayed with me 
that night, as he often did. My bed- 
room window was above the kitchen 
roof, which was low. At midnight we 
jumped from the roof, took the old 
horse and a large bundle of hay, went 
to the church, shortened the bell-rope, 
tied it around the horse’s neck, and 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 

put the hay under his nose. He was 
hungry, and pulled well at the rope 
while we were running home. The 
bell began to ring. Soon the cry of 
fire was heard. W e went up the short 
spout at the end of the roof, and into 
the chamber- window, and were snoring 
when Father opened the door. It was 
a moonlight night. Many persons were 
in the graveyard trying to look into 
the window, but no one dared to enter 
the church. At last a man lifted a 
boy, whose teeth chattered as he said 
it was ‘ a long white object, bobbing up 
and down. ’ ‘ A ghost ! ’ was whispered 

from one to another, when Green came 
tearing among them, saying, ‘ Some 
one has stolen the church key. ’ They 
told him it was a white object ringing 
the bell. ‘ I’ll be bio wed if it isn’t my 
old horse ! I couldn’t find him to-day ; ’ 
and marching up to the door, he gave 
it a kick, calling ‘ Billy, ’ to which the 
52 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


horse responded with a long neigh. 
The old man threatened to give every 
boy in town a cowhiding. The next 
day I heard my father say to Deacon 
Moody, ‘1 know it wasn’t Phil nor Ned 
Westburne, for I found them asleep. ’ ’ ’ 
Here the children entered, calling for 
Ruth and Alice to arrange the tableaus. 
A platform was laid on one side of 
the large sitting-room. Shrubbery and 
potted plants gave it the appearance of 
a garden. An impromptu scene, to 
wit, ‘‘The Sleeping Child and Guar- 
dian Angel ” was arranged. Cushions 
were placed on the edge of the stage, 
on which Kate lay ; one of her plump 
arms appearing over her head. Ruth 
stood on high steps, dressed in a long 
white robe, her dark hair hanging loose 
below the waist, a crown of white 
lilies upon her head, and she folded her 
hands over the head of Kate, and lifted 
high her beautiful eyes. Joe and 
53 



“The Old Mail Threatened to Give 
Eveiy Boy in Town a Cowhiding” 




THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


Tommy stood at each end of the stage 
to draw the curtain when Alice gave 
the signal. Lights were placed to give 
the best effect, and the curtain was 
slowly opened. 

‘ ‘ How beautiful ! ’ ’ exclaimed Mrs. 
Morse, while tears stood in the eyes of 
Mrs. Westburne. 

‘ ‘ O Arthur ! you have often called 
Ruth an angel, — doesn’t she look like 
one now ? ’ ’ asked Dora, as her broth- 
er’s eyes were intensely fixed upon the 
sweet face. 

The curtain was slowly closed. 

“Now the Indians!” shouted the 
children, running upon the stage. Jack 
and Tommy, dressed like the redman, 
were looking through the shrubbery. 
Alice and Kate personated squaws sit- 
ting upon the ground. Joe was in his 
glory, for he was the warrior. In the 
belt around his waist hung a number 
of old wigs, representing the scalps of 
55 



Where Deacon Moody Held Forth 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


those he had killed. Indeed his face 
looked frightful with the red and black 
paint. He had crept near the children, 
who were huddled together behind 
some bushes, and with pale, frightened 
faces were gazing on him as with lifted 
tomahawk he was about to spring upon 
them. 

‘ ‘ Bravo ! ’ ’ greeted the spectators. 
The cheering was too much for Joe, 
who gave a spring. The children 
screamed, the curtain was drawn, and 
the mirth was uproarious. 

‘ ‘ Let us have that again ! ’ ’ shouted 
Joe. 

*‘No, ” cried the children, “You 
have frightened us enough ! ” 

After their supper the children stood 
around the piano and sang, while Ruth 
played that beautiful old song, ‘ ‘ Good- 
bye.” 

Farewell, farewell, is a lonely sound. 
And often brings a sigh, 

57 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 


But give to me, lolien loved ones part, 
That sweet old loord, Good-by T 

At last the clock struck ten. The 
children declared they had “ never had 
so jolly a time. ” 

Sam entered the room, saying that 
the carriage was ready ; and with 
merry ‘ ‘ Good-byes ’ ’ from, her little 
friends, Kate’s birthday was ended. 



THE l Ol RTH OF JULY 


My country^ ’tis of Tliee^ 
Sweet land of liberty, 

Of Thee Til sing ; 

Land lohere my fathers died ; 
Land of the Pilgrim's jyride, 
From every mountain side 
Let freedom ring." 



CHAPTER III. 

THE FOURTH OF JUI.Y. 

I T was late in the afternoon, the 
day before the Fourth of July. 
Ruth and her mother were alone 
in the sitting-room. Ruth was sewing, 
and the happy expression on her face 
showed contentment. Her mother no- 
ticed it, and laid down the book she 
was reading. 

“You have pleasant thoughts, 
Ruth?” 


THE FOURTH OF JULY 


“Yes, mamma. I was thinking how 
nice and sweet it was to have you back 
with us again. Every day I missed 
you and papa. The return to our quiet, 
restful home- life is just like sunshine 
after a long, cloudy day. 

The face of the mother grew sad as 
she thought of that day when she must 
part with her dear ones. 

“Those long winter evenings when 
you or papa would read to us our 
evening prayers, your advice, tlie good- 
night kiss, were blessings I did not 
know how to prize until I was de- 
prived of them,” continued Ruth. 

‘ ‘ It is only when we lose that which 
the heart needs that we feel the worth 
of what we have lost. We must learn 
to part with much that is dear to us, 
to prepare for our home in the great 
eternity. ’ ’ 

“You are better than you were 
before you went to Florida, are 
62 


THE FOURTH OF JULY 


you not, mamma?” asked Ruth anx- 
iously. 

“I think I am some better, although 
sometimes I feel very weak; but let us 
be resigned to our Heavenly Father’s 
will. And now tell me about the 
Sunday-sehool eelebration to-morrow. ’ ’ 

“Well, mamma, we go to the Laurel 
grounds in earriages and have a pienic ; 
afterwards a sail to Deer Island. Mr. 
and Mrs. Churchill will go, and we 
have arranged three carriages. One 
represents the Goddess of Liberty, 
another the Four Seasons ; and another 
Day and Night. Dora Morse repre- 
sents Liberty; Alice, Day; and I, 
Night. The children go in carryalls, 
and form a procession at the church. 
Nurse and I have settled upon my 
black bombazine dress with gilt paper 
stars. Alice dresses in white.” 

“And what am I to be?” exclaimed 
Kate, coming in from school with her 
63 


THE FOURTH OF JULY 


hat hanging by the strings, and followed 
by Joe and Tommy. 

“You can dress in white, and walk 
in the procession with the other little 
girls. 

“ ’Tis what I did last Fourth of July, 
and I was tired enough. I don’t want 
to be a little mouse. If I can’t be a 
long-tailed rat, and ride in a carriage, 
I won’t go. There now! I’ll stay at 
home with mamma, ’ ’ said Kate, ten- 
derly pressing her cheek to her 
mother’s. 

‘ ‘ I shall go. All the boys are going. 
I shall take my bow and arrows, and 
hunt squirrels in the woods. You had 
better go, Kate. There will be plenty 
of trees to climb. You will lose lots 
of fun, besides the goodies. ’ ’ 

“ How foolish you talk, Joe! How 
can I climb trees in my white dress, 
before the minister and his wife and all 
the people? I can buy goodies with 
64 


THE FOURTH OF JULY 

the money father gives me to-morrow. 
I would rather stay with mamma. ’ ’ 

“ Then nurse can go with us, and I 
will bring you something nice,” said 
Tommy. 

The next morning the boys were up 
before sunrise. No one could sleep. 
The blowing of tin horns, beating on 
old tin pans, whistles, fire- crackers, — 
anything and everything that could 
make a noise was called into action. 

What man does not remember how 
when a boy his heart leaped at the 
sound of the Fourth of July? How 
he would hoard his pennies to buy 
powder and fire-crackers ! He was 
never tired of hearing stories of that 
glorious old time when his ancestors 
threw off the yoke of oppression and 
declared themselves free and indepen- 
dent of any king. Ah, those happy 
childhood days ! How the heart grows 
young again when we think of them ! 

65 


/ 






Wonderinjo^ What the Boys Were At 







THE FOURTH OF JULY 


Joe and Tommy came to the break- 
fast-table with keen appetites. 

“Oh, father, I would like to be a 
soldier when I’m a man. I would 
always fight for liberty and right. 
And father, that Revolutionary gun of 
grandfather’s, hanging over the kitchen 
door, you promised to me. 1 want to 
show it to my grandchildren when I’m 
an old man, and tell them how their 
great-grandfather thrashed the English. 
Don’t I wish I had been alive then! 
Wouldn’t I have pitched into the ras- 
cals!” and Joe brought his fist down 
with force, making the dishes rattle on 
the table. 

“ Why, Joe,” said his father, “you 
are looking a great way ahead. ” 

‘ ‘ And old King George called us 
donkeys ! ’ ’ exclaimed Tommy with in- 
dignation. “We soon showed him he 
was the biggest donkey when we kicked 
off his shackles. 


67 


THE FOURTH OF JULY 


“ Who told you that, Tommy ? ’ 
asked Ruth, laughing. 

“ It is an anecdote I read in my read- 
ing-book. A gentleman told King 
George that his subjects in America 
would declare war if he put such heavy 
taxes on them. ‘ Oh, no ! ' exclaimed 
the old king ; ‘ the heavier the burdens 
you put upon donkeys’ backs, the 
steadier they bear them.’ The old 
tyrant ! ’ ’ shouted Tommy. 

“I’m glad to see your patriotism,” 
said Mr. W estburne, smiling, ‘ ‘ but 
you must not let it run away with your 
judgment. ” 

The boys promised their father that 
they would not play with powder or 
fire ; and, dressed in their Sunday 
clothes, they started for the place where 
the children were to congregate. 

The carriage was at the door to take 
Ruth, Alice, and Nurse with a large 
basket, to the vestry. 

68 


THE FOURTH OF JULY 


Kate looked after them with wistful 
eyes. 

‘ ‘ I should like to go, but I know 
father likes to have Nurse go to look 
after the boys, and she will enjoy it, 
too. Last Fourth, when we went to 
‘ Indian Hill Farm, ’ she stayed at home 
with mamma. But what shall I do 
all this long day? ” thought Kate. “ I 
will go to the garden and see if there 
are any lilies of the valley and June 
pinks blooming yet. ’ ’ And Kate for- 
got her loneliness as she flitted like a 
butterfly from flower to flower. With 
a face glowing with happiness she en- 
tered the sitting-room. 

‘ ‘ Look, mamma, — the first white 
rose that has bloomed on my bush, and 
the last of the lilies of the valley. 

‘ ‘ How sweet ! ’ ’ said her mother. 

“ Come here, Kate,” said her father. 
“ How is it that you did not go to the 
picnic ? Are you ill ? ” 

69 


J 



What Makes the Country Look so Beautiful ? 



THE FOURTH OF JULY 


“No, papa. I thought it was better 
for Nurse to go. “ 

“ And deny yourself a pleasure to 
make others happy. I am glad to 
see my little girl praetiee self-denial. 
After luneh, if mamma would like, we 
will drive into the eountry. 

“Nothing would please me more. 
1 would like to call at Betsy Shaw’s 
cottage. Nurse told me she had a fall 
on the ice last winter and broke her 
arm. ’ ’ 

Kate prepared a basket with various 
things which Mrs. Westburne thought 
Betsy would need. 

“ Come, get ready,’’ said her father 
after lunch, and they were soon on the 
road. 

‘ ‘ Oh, father ! please stop here a 
moment ! ’’ exclaimed Kate as they 
passed a store. 

She soon entered the carriage with a 
bundle and a happy face. 

71 


THE FOURTH OF JULY 


“What have you in the bundle, 
Kate ? ’ ’ asked her mother. 

‘ ‘ Some calico to make a dress for 
Mary Shaw. I bought it with the 
money father gave me this morning ; 
won’t she be happy when T show it to 
her?” 

Her mother answered with a kiss 
and a smile. 

“ What makes the country look so 
beautiful ? The birds never sang so 
sweetly and I never enjoyed a ride 
so much as to-day, ’ ’ thought Kate. 

They soon came in sight of Mrs. 
Shaw’s cottage; and, taking her bundle 
and the basket, Kate opened the little 
gate, and ran up to the door, which 
was open. 

Mary was spinning as they entered, 
and her grandmother had been trying 
to do some mending that lay in her 
lap. A bed with its snow-white quilt 
stood in one corner. A large Bible 
72 


THE FOURTH OF JULY 

lay on a small table, and on the win- 
dow-seat was an old pitcher filled with 
wild flowers. Everything about the 
room was beautifully clean. Not a 
speck of dust could be seen on the 
high-backed flag-bottomed chairs. 

The cottage had only four rooms, 
and this was a bedroom and sitting- 
room. Mrs. Shaw was a Quaker, of 
average height, rather stout, with an 
abundance of gray hair, and such a 
pleasant, motherly face that one was 
sure to find sympathy in her kind 
heart. Her support was a small pen- 
sion, and the little land around her 
cottage, on which she raised a few 
vegetables and kept a cow. 

‘‘You had a bad fall in the win- 
ter ? ’ ’ asked Mrs. W estburne after she 
had greeted her old friend. 

“Yes. It was in January I broke 
my arm. Mary was in school, and it 
was a long while before the doctor 
73 


THE FOURTH OF JULY 


came. It is yet weak. Old bones 
don’t knit together like young ones. ” 

While Mrs. Westburne and Mrs. 
Shaw were conversing, Kate drew her 
father into the barn to see the cow and 
Mary’s chickens. 

“Now come and see my kittens,” 
said Mary as they entered the neat 
kitchen, where three kittens were 
nestled in an old basket. 

“What a beauty this one is, with 
its white face and paws ! ” exclaimed 
Kate. 

“ Don’t you want it ? ” asked Mary. 

“ Oh, yes, thank you ! I have no pet; 
but I must keep it out of Joe’s ’way, 
for he likes to tease cats,” replied Kate. 
“ I have brought you a Fourth of July 
present ; ” and she unrolled the pink 
calico before the admiring eyes of 
Mary. 

“You know this is the anniversary 
of our independence, and we must not 
74 


THE FOURTH OF JULY 


forget our friends on this glorious day, ’ ’ 
said Mrs. Westburne, taking from the 
basket sugar, coffee, ham, butter, a 
large pie, a bag of cookies, and a pack- 
age of Oolong tea. 

“ How good the Lord is to give me 
such kind friends! ” said Mrs. Shaw, 
with grateful tears in her eyes. 

Come and make us a visit soon,"’ 
said Mr. Westburne as he closed the 
little wicket. 

It was six o’clock when Nurse and 
the other children returned from the 
picnic. 

‘‘See, Kate, I didn’t forget you,” 
said Tommy, handing Kate a bag of 
cocoanut-cakes. 

“I bought you something, too!” 
exclaimed Joe, turning his pocket in- 
side out, and with it a piece of twine, 
a number of broken pencils, a fish- 
hook, a bit of candy, and half a 
lozenge. 


75 


THE FOURTH OF JULY 


“ ’Tisn’t there,” said he, putting his 
hand into his other pocket, and pulling 
out a paper parcel. “ Here ’tis, Kate: 
spruce gum enough to last you with 
cuds for six months. I know what you 
like,” said Joe, as he saw Kate’s eyes 
sparkle. 

“ It is good and thoughtful of you, 
boys, to remember me. Did you have 
a good time ? ’ ’ 

“ Jolly time! I shot at two squir- 
rels, chased a rabbit, and fell over a 
stone wall, broke down in one of the 
swings, and went to sail on the river 
with Jack Talbot, Dick Hill, and 
Tommy,” responded Joe. 

“Yes, and the old boat leaked. I 
had to bail the water out with my new 
straw hat, ’ ’ said Tommy. ‘ ‘ And 
every one was asking for you, Kate. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I went to ride with father and 
mother to see Mrs. Shaw; and Mary 
gave me this little kitten. Look! isn’t 
76 


THE FOURTH OF JULY 


it a beauty? Don’t pull its tail, Joe! 
Oh, Biddy, bring me some milk! I’m 
sure it is hungry. 

‘ ‘ F ather is going to take us to see 
the fireworks on the Common,” said 
Alice, entering the room. 

“ Oh, won’t that be jolly! Hurrah 
for the Fourth of July! I wish it 
would come every week,” shouted Joe. 

‘ ‘ Every week is too much, and too 
much of a good thing is sometimes 
good for nothing,” said Tommy. 

“How wise you are. Tommy! Is 
that original ? ’ ’ laughed Alice. 

“No: it is a proverb I saw in my 
dictionary. 

‘ ‘ Oh ! I thought it was one of 
Solomon’s. Go on. Tommy, learning 
and teaching all the proverbs you can 
find, and when you are a man you 
will be as wise as old King Solomon. 
Now, don’t say I never gave you good 
advice,” said Joe. 
peter 77 



Watching and Waiting 





THE FOURTH OF JULY 

After supper the children went to 
their mother’s room to have a chat in 
the twilight, as was their custom. 
Mrs. Westburne sat in her arm-chair 
by the open window: she smiled as 
she listened to their account of the 
day. 

“ Father is going to take us in the 
two-seated wagon. Isn’t that capital, 
we shall not be crowded ! ’ ’ ex- 
claimed Joe. 

The children gave their mother the 
good-night kiss, but Kate lingered. 

“Come, Kate,” said Ruth. “You 
must see the fire- works. 

“I’m coming! Oh, mammal I did 
not tell you that on my birthday I 
made some resolutions. One was self- 
denial, — another to give to the poor. 
I heard you say there was great pleas- 
ure in giving to the needy, and I never 
knew how much of Heaven we could 
have in this world until to-day.” 

79 


THE FOURTH OF JULY 


“You have made me happy; and, 
my dear child, let those resolutions go 
with you through life. ’ 

Mrs. Westburne sat long in the 
twilight looking at the silent stars, 
her heart filled with God’s love, and 
pleading His promises for her dear 
husband and children, and for herself 
grace and strength to submit to His 
will. 



SCHOOL DAYS AND 
VACATION 


Old schoolhouse, adieu to your rusty 
door ! 

Enough for the present of learned store^ 
Till we return in cooler days 
To hooks, and sports, and girlish ivaysT 



CHAPTER IV. 


SCHOOL DAYS AND VACATION. 


V ACATION ! what word was 
more sweet to our childish 
ears? How our heads have 
ached over the hard problems and long 
lessons until we thought no lot was so 
wretched as that of a school-girl’s! 

It was the first of August. A group 
of girls, earnestly talking, were stand- 
ing on the playground around the 
schoolhouse. 



SCHOOL HAYS 


“ I call it real mean to have to be 
shut up in that hot schoolhouse another 
week, just to let the first class study a 
little more for their examination for the 
high school! If they hadn’t Ibeen so 
plaguey lazy they would have been pre- 
pared; and,” continued May Wilson, 
“ I shall stay at home to-morrow. ” 

‘ ‘ And Mose Chase ’ ’ (as the girls 
called their master when they were 
angry with him) ‘ ‘ will send to your 
house to know why you are absent, ’ ’ 
said Emma Carey. “I don’t believe 
the first class had anything to do with 
it. I think it was Mose Chase’s idea 
when the committee came this morn- 
ing, ” continued Emma. 

“I hope every one will fail in the 
examination,” said another. 

“ I don’t. I hope they will all go. 
Get rid of the conceits, and give us a 
chance. Look at them parading the 
school- yard two and two, studying as 
84 


SCHOOL DAYS 


if their lives depended upon it. They 
don’t pretend to speak to us now, they 
feel so grand ! ’ ’ exclaimed Hattie Gage. 

“I’m sure Lizzie Taylor is not a bit 
stuck-up. How sad she looks in that 
black dress ! Poor girl ! she has no one 
but her grandmother now,’’ said 
Emma. 

“Well, yes; she and Sallie Tilton 
are exceptions, ’ ’ replied Hattie. 

“ I wonder if Mose Chase is going 
to teach next winter? ’’ asked Nellie 
Gray. 

“ Good gracious ! I hope not. I 
can’t get a chance to eat a bit of any- 
thing I bring to school, and I’m always 
half- starved when I study in the win- 
ter. Don’t you remember, girls,” 
continued May, “how his desk was 
loaded with our goodies last winter, 
and he pretended to throw them away ? 
I believe he carried them home to eat 
for his dessert ; and that delicious pear 
85 


SCHOOL DAYS 


that he took from me this morning, I 
didn’t get a taste of it, — and I was 
going to give all of you a bite. If he 
eats that, I do hope it will stick in his 
throat, ’ ’ exclaimed the indignant May. 

“Father says Mr. Page is a better 
teacher. I’m sure I didn’t learn much 
from his way of teaching, ’ ’ said Annie 
Foster. 

‘ ‘ In some respects he may be better, 
but we could eat before Page’s eyes 
and he would think we were studying; 
besides, he was near-sighted, — a good 
defect in a teacher, ’ ’ said May. 

‘ ‘ Hallo ! there comes Kate West- 
burne. Oh, Kate, to-morrow isn’t to 
be vacation, just on account of those 
wretches in the first class ! ” 

“ That is too bad. I’m sorry for 
you girls; but I am not coming, for 
papa takes us all to the seashore to- 
morrow. Mamma is going for her 
health. ” 


86 


SCHOOL DAYS 


“Cant we club together, and not 
come to-morrow?’ asked Nellie Gray, 

‘ ‘ Be careful what you say. ‘ Little 
pigs have big ears. Look over your 
shoulder, Nellie.'’ 

There stood Mollie Bates, the greatest 
tattler in school. 

“Take that for listening, and scam- 
per, you little blab-tale, ' cried Nellie, 
giving her a slight box on the ear. 

“ I’ll blab now, you see if I don’t! ’’ 
shouted Mollie, shaking her fist when 
she was at a safe distance. 

“ That little elf is the nuisance of 
the school. She will be sure to tell, so 
our game can’t be played, — and there 
goes the bell! ” exclaimed Annie. 

Mollie stood by the master’s desk as 
the girls entered the schoolroom. The 
day was sultry, and Mr. Chase looked 
warm and cross. He was vigorously 
fanning himself with his handkerchief; 
and after the girls had taken their seats, 
87 





The Sea was so Placid 








SCHOOL DAYS 


he arose and stamped upon the floor 
with such force that it sent Mollie 
speeding to her seat, and caused the 
girls to start with fear. 

‘ ‘ The second class can stand ! ” he 
shouted. “ I hear that you intend to 
take your vacation to-morrow. Now, 
if I find one of you absent, I shall in- 
stitute a punishment not soon forgot- 
ten. You can be seated; ” and he laid 
upon the desk a ferule which Mollie 
said looked ‘ ‘ like the stick grand- 
mother stirred hasty pudding with. 

Little Mollie thought it was cooler in 
the schoolroom at recess, and wisely 
kept her seat ; but she received a few 
cuffs from the second class when school 
was dismissed. 

“ I shall write and tell you all about 
Berry Island,” said Kate to Annie 
Foster, her intimate schoolmate; and 
with professions of never-dying friend- 
ship, such as only school-girls know 
89 


SCHOOL DAYS 


how to make, the two girls bade each 
other good-by. 

“Father,” said Kate that evening, 
“vacation does not commence until a 
week from to-morrow. Some of the 
girls seem like rebelling. It’s in the 
air that Mr. Chase has threatened to 
punish every one who does not come. ’ ’ 

“I must send him a note in the 
morning,” replied Mr. Westburne. 

The children were in high glee the 
next day. 

“Only think, Kate, more than a 
month’s vacation in which to swim 
and go fishing! 1 feel as if I was in 
heaven! ” Whereupon Joe turned a 
somerset, which Tommy strove hard 
to match. 

‘ ‘ But I cannot spend all my time on 
the water. I shall walk on the beach 
and pick up shells, watch the waves, 
and read to mamma, ’ ’ smilingly replied 
Kate. 


90 


SCHOOL DAYS 


Mr. W estburne had taken a furnished 
cottage. Nurse and Bridget went ahead 
at sunrise, consequently dinner was 
ready when the hungry ones reached 
the house, which was near the beach; 
and from its windows the waves could 
be seen breaking upon the shore. 

After supper the children walked 
upon the beach with their father. Mrs. 
W estburne sat upon the veranda, 
watching the moon rise over the ocean. 

“ How wonderful, how mysterious, 
and how perfect are the works of God I 
That mild and silvery moon has power 
to control the tides of the mighty 
ocean. How calm and fair is the 
scene! The moon, the stars, and the 
grand old ocean glorify their Maker 
and do his will. All the works of His 
hands praise Him, but not man, for 
whose good and happiness He has made 
all things,” thought Mrs. Westburne. 

The children had their bath at six 
91 



Kate in a Petulant INIood 




SCHOOL DAYS 


with their father, who later on taught 
Kate and Tommy to swim. Joe took 
to the water like a duck. Nothing 
delighted the boys more than to go 
with their father and the fishermen to 
catch lobsters and crabs, and boil them 
on the beach. 

One beautiful day the three girls 
with their mother went to see “The 
old Hermit’s cave.” Tradition says 
that ‘ ‘ when the cave was discovered, 
the skeleton of a man was found there, 
also some cooking utensils. 

“ See, mamma, what a nice seat for 
you in the shadow of the cave where 
you can see the waves dash over the 
rocks! ” exclaimed Kate. 

There had been a storm, and the 
roar of the ocean was terrific as the bil- 
lows foamed and leaped upon the great 
rocks. Kate sat at her mother’s feet, 
silently watching all. 

“What is my little girl thinking 
93 


SCHOOL DAYS 


about? ” asked her mother, stroking 
the hair of the awe-struck child. 

‘ ‘ I was thinking how great and 
mighty God is. Before the storm the 
sea was placid ; the waves murmured so 
sweetly that I wanted them to kiss my 
feet, and I took off my boots and ran 
along the shore ; and when I played in 
the sand, the sand birds came hopping 
and peeping, and turned their eyes to 
me, chirping a ‘ Peep, peep, ’ as if they 
must tell me how happy they were ; but 
to-day the sea does not seem the same 
ocean. It fills me with strange won- 
der, and now the little peeps are afraid 
to come. 

“It is the voice of God, my child. 
He whispers his love in the restless 
waves, in the sweet songs of the birds, 
in the fragrant flowers, and in the sub- 
lime sunset. Indeed we love and 
enjoy these gifts, but seldom do we 
think of the Giver! Again, do we not 
94 


SCHOOL DAYS 


see His grandeur and His power in the 
moving waters, in the sudden fearful 
storm, and in the earthquake, all which 
make us fear. If we had that per- 
fect love and trust in ‘ Our Heavenly- 
Father, ’ why need we fear? You re- 
member that little hymn, — 

“ ^ The curling waves loith aivful roar 
A little boat assaiVd, 

And pallid Fear's distracting power 
O'er all on hoard prevail' d, 

Save one, the captains darling child, 

Who steadfast vieiv' d the storm, 

And cheerful with composure smil'd 
At Danger's threatening form. 

“Why sport' st thou thus?" a seaman 
cried, 

“ While terrors overwhelm f " 

“ Why should I fear ? " the hoy replied, 

“ My Father's at the helm.' " 

95 


SCHOOL DAYS 


So iclten our loorldly all is reft, 

Our earthly heljyer gone, 

We still have one true Anchor left ; 

God helps, and He alone' 

• 

' ‘ My dear child, ’ ’ continued Mrs. 
Westburne, “give your heart early to 
God, for He has said, ‘ They who seek 
me early shall find me. ’ I feel that God 
will soon send His angel to summon 
me to my heavenly home, and I want 
you to remember all I say to you. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Oh, mamma, I cannot live without 
you! Don’t talk of leaving us! ” and 
Kate laid her face in her mother’s lap. 

“ God is good, and you must learn to 
submit to His will. He sends afflictions 
to draw us to Him. Those we love He 
takes to show us that this world is not 
our home ; and He has said, ‘ When 
thy Father and Mother forsake thee, 
then the Lord will take thee up. ’ ’ ’ 
Ruth and Alice returned, and Kate 
96 



Good Night 



SCHOOL DAYS 


lifted her tearful eyes to her mother’s 
face to see if there was any warning of 
the dreaded sign. The same earnest 
light shone in the clear brown eyes, 
but the cheeks were a little paler. Both 
girls knew now the meaning of their 
mother’s conversation, and so they si- 
lently gathered together their books and 
shawls, and as silently walked homeward. 

It was not a fashionable beach that 
Mr. Westburne had chosen for his 
family. A large farm-house stood near 
the cottage : its owner sold butter, 
milk, and eggs, and took in a few sum- 
mer boarders. 

Sometimes families would come and 
pitch their tents, to enjoy fishing and 
camp-life for a few days. Barberries 
grew in abundance, and this abundance 
gave the place the name of Berry 
Island. 

Kate did not forget her promise to 
Annie Foster, who one day received 
98 


SCHOOL DAYS 


the following letter, which we will 
listen to, as Annie reads it to her 
mother : 

Berry Island, Aug. 20, 18 — . 
My Daiiincj Annie , — 

If mamma were well, and you were 
here, I should be perfectly happy. 1 
gathered a basketful of shells for you. 
Nurse, Tommy, and I have picked a 
lot of berries to preserve. Yesterday 
papa took us for a sail, during which 
the boys and I fished. Sometimes I 
caught two fishes at once, but I couldn’t 
take them from the hook. Next day 
we had some fried for breakfast. 

Last evening at sunset I sat upon 
the rocks with father, mother, and my 
sisters. I love to watch the ocean'; it 
fascinates me. Every day I see a new 
charm in it. When the water is calm, 
and the little waves are chasing each 
other along the shore in the sunshine, 
99 


Lo?C. 


SCHOOL DAYS 


the scene seems like God’s smile. 
Now and then I sing and paddle in the 
little waves. But when the billows 
roar and lash the rocks in their fury, 
then I see and feel God’s power, and I 
cannot sing. 

Mamma has a wheel- chair, and every 
pleasant day we wheel her along the 
shore ; and we often meet the boarders, 
who live in a dear old farm-house. 
They always bow and smile, and seem 
such nice people. 

I have a little room all my own. It 
has one window, from which I can see 
the ocean. 

I can’t think of any more to write. 
Remember me to the girls. I send 
you a great hug and much love. 

Your affectionate school-mate, 

Kate Westburne. 

One day Mr. Westburne, Kate, and 
the boys went to see the wreck of a 
100 


SCHOOL DAYS 


vessel, which had been driven upon the 
sandbar during a great storm the year 
before. Three of the sailors were found 
dead, with their bodies lashed to the 
mast. They were from the W est 
India island where the vessel had been 
for her cargo. The bodies were buried 
on Berry Island under the shadow of an 
immense rock. Some one had carved 
upon the face of the rock these lines : — 

Days, months, years, and ages shall cir- 
cle away. 

And still the vast waters around thee shall 
roll : 

Earth loses thy pattern, forever and aye — 
Oh sailor hoy ! sailor hoy ! peace to thy 
soul A 

A few days before leaving the island, 
the boys went again to visit the sailors’ 
graves. Joe dug up a large barberry 
bush, and planted it by the side of the 
101 


SCHOOL DAYS 


rock, where in after years its sweet 
blossoms sent forth their fragrance. 

It was the first of October when the 
family returned to the town. The 
bracing sea-breezes had invigorated the 
invalid for awhile ; and the children 
were, as Nurse said, “as brown as 
gypsies. 



THE PICNIC OVER THE 
RIVER 


This fond attachment to the loell-knoiim 
place 

Where first we started into life's long 
race 

Maintains its hold loith such unfailing 
sway^ 

We feel it e'en in age, and at our latest 



CHAPTER V. 

THE PICNIC OVER THE RIVER. 

W HAT New England man or 
woman does not remember 
the joy with which those 
half holidays, Wednesday and Satur- 
day afternoons, were hailed? How we 
would watch the hands of the clock 
until they reached the noon hour! 

The eye will moisten and the heart 
grow young again as we think of our 
happy school days. How one yearns 


THE PICNIC 


to be a child again, to see the bygone 
faces that used to brighten that dearest 
spot on earth, ‘ ‘ our childhood home. 

It was on one of those half- holidays, 
toward the end of October, that Kate 
Westburne and Annie Foster were 
making dolls dresses in the play-room 
in the garret. A pleasant place it was, 
with large windows, through which the 
sun shone. 

“ What a lovely view there is from 
this window! If I were you I should 
sleep here, ’ ’ said Annie. 

“ It is so lonesome,'’ said Kate, “ to 
sleep here alone; when it grows dark, 
that big chimney and those old spin- 
ning-wheels in the corner make shad- 
ows on the wall. I am afraid to go 
to bed. Papa says the old wheels 
once belonged to his grandmother. 
Sometimes we hear a noise, and 
Joe says, ‘ ’Tis the ghost of papa’s 
grandmother spinning. The garret is 
106 


THE PICNIC 


haunted.’ Ruth says, ‘It is not; 'tis 
the rats. ’ ’ ’ 

“What are those white objeets on 
the hill among those tall oak-trees ? ’’ 

‘ ‘ That is the new eemetery . Y ou 
can view it well from mamma’s win- 
dow. Papa has bought a lot by the 
side of Mr. Morse’s. Do you see 
those two trees alone on the top of the 
hill? Well, it is there.” 

‘ ‘ Look at those kites ; how high they 
fly over the hill ! ’ ’ said Annie. 

“Oh! it is Joe and Tommy: they 
are drawing them down. Don’t let 
those boys see you, Annie, for they 
will be up here plaguing us. See the 
shadow of the chimney on the wall. 
Did I ever tell you how mamma was 
frightened at her shadow when she 
was a school-girl ? ’ ’ 

“No. Oh, do tell me!” replied 
Annie. 

“ Well,” continued Kate, “mamma 
107 


THE PICNIC 


never had any brothers and only one 
sister, older than she, aunt Martha, 
who married a number of years before 
mamma. Uncle Nathan’s farm was 
about three miles from grandpapa’s, 
and half a mile from Pembroke Acad- 
emy; there mamma lived with aunty 
while she attended the academy, and 
grandpapa called every Saturday after- 
noon, and took her to the academy 
Monday morning. One Saturday at 
sunset mamma decided to walk until 
she met grandpapa. It was a lonely 
road. After walking about a mile she 
came to the old graveyard; and, as she 
passed it, she fancied she caught sight 
of something appearing on the side by 
the high wall. She moved fast, but 
the object moved just as fast. Then 
she walked slow, and that object ap- 
peared to do the same. She was dread- 
fully frightened, so much so that when 
she had reached the turn in the road, 
108 


THE PICNIC 


prior to going through the woods she 
vowed she would take the other road 
and bolt into Mr. Moody’s house; but 
upon turning the corner, all she saw was 
her own shadow leaving the wall and 
coming in front of her ; and then 
mamma sat on a rock and had a good 
laugh. She was glad enough when she 
heard the welcome sound of grand- 
papa’s buggy.” 

“ What's that? Didn’t you hear a 
noise ? ’ ’ said Annie. 

“Ido believe it ’ s a bat, ’ ’ replied Kate. 

“ No : sounds like a groan. And oh, 
look at that shadow moving behind the 
chimney ! ’ ’ 

The girls ran, screaming, down the 
stairs, and Joe came behind them 
laughing. 

‘ ‘ So you were afraid of my shadow ? ’ ’ 

“You bad boy! you might have 
frightened us into fits. 

“ But I came to ask you and Annie 
109 


THE PICNIC 


if you wanted to go on the hill and 
fly the kites,” said Joe coaxingly. 
“ Tommy and I are going to shoot at 
a target. 

“No, indeed: you would be wicked 
enough to make us your target. We’re 
going to mamma’s room right away.” 

Mrs. Westburne’s chamber was over 
the sitting-room. It had four win- 
dows, — one in front of the house, two 
at the side, and a bay-window at the 
back. Through these windows the 
sun shone, as soon as it arose in the 
east until it set in the west. Between 
the two side windows appeared a large 
fireplace, and in the bay-window stood 
a small table with a few pots of choice 
plants which bloomed in the winter. 
On the inside of the room, opposite 
the fireplace, reposed a wide, low bed- 
stead with crimson curtains. In one 
corner rested an organ, on which Mrs. 

110 


THE PICNIC 


Westburne often played at twilight. 
A book-case, a writing-desk, and a 
work-table, with four or five low, easy 
chairs, completed the furniture of the 
room. The crimson carpet and win- 
dow curtains gave it a most comfort- 
able look. The children thought it 
the sweetest and dearest room in the 
house, for in this room they were born 
and nursed. 

Mrs. W estburne sat in her arm-chair 
by the west window. The book of 
David’s Psalms in large print lay open 
upon her lap. Nurse Ashby was sew- 
ing by the work-table. 

“ Why is it, Kate, that your aprons 
have such large holes in them? This 
one is almost new, and see what a long 
slit it has. 

“ I’ll tell you, Nurse. If we con- 
verse in the deaf and dumb alpha- 
bet with our fingers, or laugh, or 
even turn around in school. Chase calls 
111 


THE PICNIC 


us to him, pins our aprons over our 
faces, and stands us in a corner. I 
can’t breathe, so with my teeth I 
make a hole in my apron for my 
nose. 

I don’t wear aprons; and he stands 
me in a corner with my face to the 
wall, or puts me under his desk. He 
wants us to keep as still as mice, ’ ’ said 
Annie. 

“ I wonder what will be more tire- 
some in our lives than our school- 
days? ” asked Kate. 

Oh Kate ! if you live to woman- 
hood, you will have sorrows and cares; 
then you will look back upon these 
school-days as the happiest time of 
your life, and wish you were a little 
girl again. You will think of this 
dear old chamber, and yearn for the 
loved ones who have long since gone 
to the spirit-land. Then will these 
departed days be sweet in your mem- 
112 


THE PICNIC 


ory,” exclaimed Mrs. Westburne 
sadly. 

‘ ‘ I believe it, dear mamma, ’ ’ said 
Kate, tenderly kissing her mother. 

“ AVhere are you, Kate?” shouted 
Joe, coming from the stable one 
Wednesday morning before school- 
time. 

‘ ‘ Here I am. What do you want, 
Joe? ” asked Kate, with her head out 
of the window. 

“ Sam is going to give Tommy and 
me a sail over the river this afternoon. 
He is going to get some clams. Don’t 
you want to go, and invite two or three 
of your mates? We ’ll make a clam- 
chowder in the woods. Sam makes 
fine chowders. 

“Oh, won’t that be jolly! I’ll in- 
vite Annie Foster and May Wilson. 
Whom will you invite, Joe? ” 

“ Dick Hill and Bob Wells.” 

113 


THE PICNIC 


‘‘ Oh Joe? Bob Wells uses bad words 
at every little thing ! ’ ’ exclaimed Kate. 

‘ ‘ W ell, he wants to go so much, 
that before he gets into the boat you 
can make him promise not to say a 
naughty word,” replied Joe. 

‘ ‘ Father says I can go with Sam 
and you, Joe,” said Kate joyfully 
after dinner. “ And Bridget has put 
all we need for the chowder into the 
big pot; and two big apple pies, some 
cheese, and a lot of doughnuts in this 
basket with the biscuits. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Oh Bridget, you are a brick ! ’ ’ ex- 
claimed Joe, as the good-natured girl 
put some soup plates, tin cups, and 
kitchen spoons and knives into a basket, 
and covered the whole with a large, 
colored table-cloth. 

“Ye can put the cloth over the sand 
and leaves, whin ye sit on the ground, 
and eat yer chowder like a pack av wild 
gypsies,” laughed Bridget 
114 


THE PICNIC 


It was a lovely afternoon. Sam and 
the boys were waiting in the boat at 
the wharf when Kate and her mates 
arrived. Bob Wells looked at the girls 
askant, as he was seldom invited to 
their parties. He was a strong, intelli- 
gent boy, of about Joe’s age. 

“ Now, Bob, you must promise not 
to use strong expressions; and if you 
break your promise, you will either 
forfeit your ehowder, or walk home 
over the bridge, which you know is 
three miles,” said Kate. 

“All right, Kate, I promise not to 
say a single bad word. 

The party soon reached the opposite 
shore. Sam went for the clams, while 
the boys cut two stout limbs, each 
with two prongs. These they drove 
into the ground, and, cutting from a 
tree another strong limb, hung it, with 
the chowder- pot, between the prongs 
over the dried leaves and twigs which 
115 


THE PICNIC 


Tommy and Dick had gathered for the 
fire. 

Kate and Annie peeled the potatoes 
and onions. May AVilson was frying 
the slices of salt pork for the chowder 
when Sam arrived with the clams and 
a tin pail of water. 

‘ ‘ Here are the salt and pepper, 
but where is the milk? ” asked Sam 
when the chowder was nearly done. 

‘ ‘ Bridget must have forgotten it, or 
put it all into this jug of coffee,” re- 
plied Kate. 

“ There are some cows over there in 
the field ! ’ ’ exclaimed Bob, seizing the 
tin pail. “I’ll go and milk enough 
for the chowder ! ’ ’ and away Bob ran 
for the cow. 

“Go to the farm-house, and buy 
some milk. That cow will kick you 
over! ” shouted Sam. 

But Bob was determined to try the 
experiment. The cow stopped eating, 
116 


THE PICNIC 


turned her head, and, seeing a stranger 
stealing her milk, she lifted her foot, 
kieked the pail over, and Bob found 
himself sprawling upon the ground 
with a bump on his forehead. 

‘ ‘ Darn that blamed cow ! ’ ’ shouted 
Bob, as he limped to the river to bathe 
his forehead. 

‘ ‘ Oh Bob ! Bob ! you have broken 
your promise ! ’ ’ cried Kate. 

“ I couldn’t help it ; ’twas in me, 
and had to come out,” grumbled 
Bob. 

Joe picked up the pail and ran to 
the farmer, who stood in the yard 
laughing heartily at Bob’s mishap. He 
gave Joe a pail of milk, and Sam fin- 
ished making the chowder. Annie 
spread the cloth upon the ground. 
May cut the pies and arranged the 
dessert. Kate put the coffee over the 
coals to warm, while Sam and Joe 
were dishing up the chowder. 

117 


THE PICNIC 


“Come, Bob, chowder and supper 
are ready, ’ ’ shouted Dick. 

‘ ‘ He is ashamed to come. Poor 
boy! ” said May. 

“ Hurry up. Bob, and don’t make 
me come after you, ’ ’ said Kate. 

Bob picked himself up, and came 
with a doleful face. 

‘ ‘ What are you going to have. Bob, 
chowder, and walk home, or no chowder, 
and sail home? ” asked Sam, laughing. 

“Chowder, and walk home,” grum- 
bled Bob. 

“That’s where you’re wise. Bob. 
You must b^ faint and hungry after 
such a kick,” laughed Joe. 

‘ ‘ I think Bob has been punished 
enough 1 ’ ’ exclaimed Tommy, looking 
at Bob’s sad face, “and I motion to 
forgive him. ’ ’ 

“ I second the motion. If the cow 
hadn’t kicked. Bob wouldn’t have 
sworn,” added Dick. 

118 


THE PICNIC 


‘ ‘ And if Bob had done as I told him 
to do, the cow wouldn’t have kicked 
him,” laughed Sam. 

“ Oh, hang the cow! ” growled Bob. 

“ Well, you shall go home in the 
boat; but you won’t try to steal a 
cow’s milk again, will you. Bob? ” 

“No, I’ll be hanged if I do, Kate,” 
replied Bob in a cheerful voice. 

The chowder and dessert soon van- 
ished into the hungry stomachs. 

Sam gathered the dishes and stored 
them away in the boat, while the boys 
and girls went to some butternut trees, 
and filled their basket and a large bag 
with the nuts, which the good-natured 
farmer gave them. 

The moon was shining .and the sun 
was setting as the party started for 
home. 

“Just the night for music on the 
water! ” exclaimed Joe, taking a large 
jew’s-harp from his pocket; and, put- 
119 


THE PICNIC 


ting it between his teeth, he played 
‘ ‘ America, ’ ’ which the girls sang ; and 
Bob, who was an expert whistler, kept 
in tune with them. 

‘ ‘ I never had such a good time in 
my life, Kate; but I sha’n’t forget that 
cow very soon, ’ ’ said Bob, as they were 
all bidding each other good-night. 

“ Neither shall 1. You made a good 
picture for a comic almanac, ’ ’ laughed 
Kate. 




CHRISTMAS 


Sing of glory to God and good loill to 
men ; 

The dark night has ended, and dawn has 
begun ; 

Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun. 

All speech flow to music, all hearts heat 
as one / ” 





CHAPTER VI. 

CHRISTMAS. 

T hanksgiving Day had 

come and gone. The chilly 
winds, the leafless trees, the 
faded flowers, and the frosty nights, 
told that the old year was dying. 

It was a cool, sunny afternoon a few 
days before Christmas. A bright wood 
fire was burning in the wide fireplace. 
Kate was writing and Nurse was sew- 
ing in the pleasant chamber. Mrs. 


CHRISTMAS 


Westburne sat in her arm-chair. She 
was looking sadly upon the fading land- 
scape. A few months before all nature 
was full of life and joy, but now how 
changed ! Although the scene was 
cheerless, yet there was sublimity in 
the thought that after “life’s fitful 
dream is o’er,” we shall bask in the 
light of God’s love through endless 
ages, — like the chrysalis of the silk- 
worm that involves itself in its silken 
case, and rests after its task is finished, 
until it shall burst from its cell a beauti- 
ful butterfly to bask in the summer sun- 
shine. Fit emblem of the immortality 
of the soul ! 

‘ ‘ I have finished my letter to cousin 
Lucy, mamma, and left a page for 
you,” said Kate. 

“ Well, dear, I will write a few lines 
to aunt Martha after supper. ’ ’ 


124 


CHRISTMAS 


Oldbury, Dec. 20th, 18 — . 
My Dearest Sister, — 

How glad I should be if I could 
write that I am gaining in strength, for 
the sake of my dear family. I shall 
stay at home this winter in my com- 
fortable chamber, where I hav^e passed 
so many happy hours. 

Yesterday was a lovely day. Ed- 
ward came home early, and - took 
me to ride in the country. As we 
were passing the new cemetery I 
begged him to stop. AYe left the 
carriage at the entrance, and passed 
through the lofty arch. It looked like 
a beautiful garden, but for a few scat- 
tered grave-stones and monuments. It 
gives me a melancholy pleasure to think 
that my body will rest within sight of 
my dear ones; but I am making you 
sad, and will change the subject. 

You write that if Nathan goes AYest 
you will visit us. It would give us 
125 


CHRISTMAS 


great pleasure to have you pass the 
winter with us. I am very glad that 
mother and father are so well. Tell 
father I often long to hear one of his 
good sermons, and mother that I will 
write her a long letter soon. The chil- 
dren grow like weeds, and are so strong 
and healthy that it does me good to 
look at them. Love to all. 

Ever your affectionate. 

Sister Ruth. 

“This year we will have a jolly 
Christmas,” said Joe to Kate and 
Tommy as they were helping Ruth 
and Alice trim the large parlor with 
evergreen. 

“ That tree is a perfect beauty, and 
when it is trimmed with the lights and 
presents it will look splendid,” said 
Alice, stopping to admire the Christ- 
mas-tree, which stood in a small tub in 
the center of the room. 

126 


CHRISTMAS 


“ Let me help you arrange it. I 
have real good taste for a boy,” said 
Joe. 

“ I know you have. You’ll be tast- 
ing all the candies until there are none 
left. Thank you, Joe, but Ruth and 
I can arrange it without any help. ’ ’ 

“ Last Christmas was dull enough, 
when father and mother were in 
Florida, ’ ’ said Ruth. 

But we went to uncle George’s. 
I’m sure we had a good time. Don’t 
you remember the fun we had in the 
evening, pulling molasses candy ? ” 
asked Alice. 

“Yes; but I enjoy Christmas better 
at home with father and mother. 

“ I can enjoy it anywhere when 
there is plenty of fun and enough to 
eat,” said Joe. 

“ What do you think Santa Claus 
will put into our stockings to-night? “ 
asked Tommy. 


127 



* 


The Christmas Tree 


CHRISTMAS 


“ What he knows we need. I shall 
hang up one of father’s stockings. It 
will hold more than mine. ’ ’ 

“Oh you avaricious boy, it would 
serve you right if you didn’t get any- 
thing, Joe! ” exclaimed Kate. 

“ Where shall we hang our stock- 
ings! ” asked Tommy. 

“ By the fireplace in mamma’s cham- 
ber. ” 

‘ ‘ How can Santa Claus come down 
the chimney when mamma has a fire 
all night? ” 

“ Oh, I suppose the old fellow will 
put on his fire-proof clothes. Take a 
peep to-night through the key -hole 
about ten o’clock. Tommy, and you 
will see Santa Claus. That’s the way 
I found him out. Curiosity often en- 
lightens the mind,'’ laughed Joe. 

Tommy lay awake a long time that 
night, thinking of Joe’s words, and 
how Santa Claus must look. 

129 


CHRISTMAS 


“ Is he a grisly old fellow? ” he asked 
at last. 

“ Who? ” muttered Joe, half asleep. 

“ Santa Claus. ” 

‘ ‘ When you hear the clock strike ten, 
wake me, and we’ll go and see him.” 

Tommy listened while Joe snored. 
Soon the clock struck ten. 

‘ ‘ Joe ! Joe ! wake ! ’ ’ whispered Tom- 
my, pushing him. 

‘ ‘ What do you want ? ’ ’ grumbled 
Joe in a very sleepy tone of voice. 

“ ’Tis ten o’clock. You said you 
would show me Santa Claus. ’ ’ 

“Come on, then,” mumbled back 
the brother, slowly creeping out of bed 
half asleep. ‘ ‘ Light the lamp, and 
leave it upon the table. We must go 
in the dark, so the old fellow won’t 
see us. ” 

The two boys groped their way 
through the long, dark hall ; and, as 
they were passing the stairway, they saw 
130 


CHRISTMAS 


Nurse Ashby ascending the stairs with 
a light. This abrupt, unthought of pos- 
sibility unsettled their wits. Running 
back, Joe in his fright struck against an 
angle in the wall, and Tommy fell over 
the stand made of porcelain which held 
his father's walking-sticks. When they 
reached their room. Tommy’s nose was 
in a sad condition, and Joe had to soothe 
a large bump on his forehead with cold 
water and a sponge. Tommy looked 
at Joe’s bumps, and dolefully asked, — 
“ Where is Santa Claus? ” 

“ Stop your fooling, you juvenile 
monkey. If it hadn’t been for you, 
this wouldn ’ t have happened. See what 
I’ve got by your morbid curiosity! ” 

“ But you said to-day that a proper 
amount of curiosity enlightened the 
mind,” continued Tommy, fairly 
laughing now. 

“I’ll enlighten you with my shoe, if 
you don’t stop teasing me I ” And here 
131 


CHRISTMAS 


Joe, with a dignity worthy of a Roman 
senator, immediately wrapped a towel 
around his forehead, and as quickly 
bounded into bed. 

Christmas dawned cold, bright, and 
frosty. Kate awoke at sunrise, and 
went softly to her mother’s chamber 
to get her stocking, and jumped into 
her bed again to examine its contents, 
— a paper of candy, a pair of red mit- 
tens, a pair of red stockings, six hand- 
kerchiefs, a bottle of cologne, a cake of 
soap, a toothbrush, and a nailbrush. 

Joe awoke with an imaginary head- 
ache, which caused him to despatch 
his henchman. Master Tom, for the 
stockings. These articles were both 
alike, matching Kate’s, but instead of 
the cologne, appeared a woolen tippet 
tied around each stocking. 

“Wish you all a ‘Merry Christ- 
mas! ’ ” greeted the children as they 
entered the cheerful breakfast-room. 

132 


CHRISTMAS 


“ Fricasseed ehiekens, cold roast 
pork with baked potatoes, fried ham 
and eggs, topped off with toast and 
coffee. A breakfast fit for a presi- 
dent! ” exelaimed Joe, surveying the 
table, and forgetting his headache. 

‘ ‘ How did you get that bump on 
your forehead, Joe ? ” 

“ Struek it against the wall, Ruth.” 

Tommy giggled, and Joe gave him 
a savage look. 

Soon after breakfast eame a small 
erowd of eousins, also an unele and 
aunt. It was too cold to play in the 
garret or out of doors, so Kate brought 
her dolls and playthings into the warm 
sitting-room, where the throng sat, 
some of them in the sunny window- 
seats, some telling stories, some sewing. 

“ What a glorious time the boys are 
having, making snow-men! See, they 
are going to knock them down with 
snow- balls! ” exclaimed Carrie. 

133 



Ancestral Portraits 


CHRISTMAS 


It was a happy party that gathered 
around the Christmas dinner. How ten- 
der and brown were the great turkey 
and goose! The juicy roast- beef and 
all the vegetables were done to perfec- 
tion. Then came the rich plum- pud- 
ding, pies, nuts and oranges. 

After dinner they went into the 
sitting-room. At seven the Christmas- 
tree was lighted, the sight of which 
made the children wild with joy. 

‘ ‘ It seems like Fairy-land ! ’ ’ shouted 
little Bessie Milton. “ Oh papa, take 
me up, so I can see the top! ” and 
Bessie leaped into her father’s arms, 
while the other children formed a 
circle, and danced around the tree. 
When they were tired they all stood 
and guessed what was in the parcels 
which hung upon the boughs. 

“I’m sure that little black doll is 
for me, because Ruth knows I like 
little darkies, ’ ’ said Amy. 

135 


CHRISTMAS 


‘H think the trumpet is for John, 
and the drum for me,” said Tommy. 

“I’ll be satisfied with that long 
whistle, the big top, and one of the 
bags of candies,” said Joe, walking 
around the tree with his hands in his 
pockets. 

‘ ‘ I wish you may get them ! 
Don’t you see everything has a little 
tag, on which is written the name of 
the one who is to have the present? ” 
said Kate. 

“ I will teach you a nice game with 
the handkerchief. Let us play it while 
we are waiting for the presents ! ’ ’ ex- 
claimed Carrie. “ Come here, Kate. I 
must whisper it first to you. Now 
stand in the corner with your face to 
the wall. Take hold of one end of this 
handkerchief, and swing it with me. 
Tommy. ’ ’ 

“ How long do you swing it? ” asked 
Joe. 


136 


CHRISTMAS 

Carrie gave the handkerchief to Joe. 

“ Who has the handkerchief ? ” asked 
Carrie. 

“ Joe,” responded Kate. 

“Yes! you peeped,” said Joe. 

“ How could I, with my face to the 
wall! I put my face in mamma’s lap.” 

Carrie threw the handkerchief be- 
hind her chair. 

“Now, where is the handkerchief?” 

“Behind Carrie’s chair,” responded 
Kate. 

The children guessed everything but 
the right solution. After enjoying the 
game for some time, they gave it up. 

“ Now, where is the catch? ” asked 
Alice. 

“ ’Tis very simple. I told Kate that 
the first one who spoke should have 
the handkerchief. She would know the 
voice; and, if no one spoke, I would 
throw it behind my chair. ’ ’ 

At last the bell rang for tea. After 
137 


CHRISTMAS 


tea Ruth and Alice distributed the 
presents. Then Ruth went to the 
piano, and all sang the words to the 
music. 

He calls us to come in, and share 
The treasures of His kingdom there. 

' Twas of Jehovali s croion the gem, 

That holy star of Bethlehem. 

The halsam is with Him alone 
To whom all mortal woe is known. 
There s healing in His garment's hem. 
Who took our form at Bethlehem." 

The clock struck eleven. The sleigh 
was at the door. Bessie and Amy were 
asleep; and the merry Christmas Day 
was ended. 


NEW YEAR’S DAY — THE 
SLEIGH RIDE 


A \ liappy New Year ; and let the poor 

Turn loith a thajikful heart from every 
door. 

If in your heart there s strife with kin 
or friend^ 

For Jesus' sake let the contention end. 

So ere the year is hidden 'neath its pall, 

Thank we the Lord to he at peace ivith 
air 



CHAPTER VII. 

NEW year’s day THE SLEIGH-RIDE. 

A HEAVY snow-storm had fallen 
during the night, which was 
followed by a light rain that 
froze the snow up on the limbs of the 
trees and bushes, making them sparkle 
with ice crystals in the sunshine, on 
that New Year’s morning when Nurse 
opened the curtains in Kate’s chamber. 

‘‘Oh, Nurse, how late I’ve slept!” 
said she, lifting her curly head from 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 

the pillow, and running to the win- 
dow. 

“ Oh, the snow, the beautiful snow! 
How it glitters ! How pure and lovely 
God has made the earth look on this 
New Year’s Day, as if He wants to tell 
us to begin this new year to make our 
lives as pure and useful as He has 
made the earth; and I will try,” said 
Kate. 

‘ ‘ What else do you think came in 
the night, while you were asleep?” 
asked Nurse. 

“Oh, I know, — aunty,” replied 
Kate. 

“ Many Happy New Years to all of 
you! ” greeted Kate, giving her aunt 
a hearty kiss as she took her seat at 
the breakfast- table. Sam went in the 
sleigh to bring Widow Shaw and Mary 
to dinner. Kate and Tommy dug a 
path around the house; and when their 
work was done they stopped to snow- 
142 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


ball each other, and lie in the snow- 
banks, and puli each other up to see 
the impress of their little forms in the 
snow. Mother and aunty stood at the 
window, smiling at their rosy faces and 
childish glee. 

“There’s the sleigh-bells! let’s run 
to the road, and ride back. ’ ’ 

Little Mary wore the presents Kate 
sent her, — the pretty crimson hood 
and mittens, — and her face was the 
picture of happiness. 

“Now, Sam,” said Kate, after the 
Widow Shaw had gone into the house, 
“ wait until I get my cloak, then give 
us a ride. 

“Stop, Sam! I’m going, ” shouted 
Joe, running down the hill. 

“It is such a lovely day, every one 
is taking a sleigh-ride. See how fast 
the snow is dropping from the twigs 
and bushes. I am sure the fairies 
worked all last night to give us a 
143 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


glimpse of fairy-land this morning,” 
said Mary, as they glided over the 
crusty snow. 

“ Why, there is little Winnie and 
Mike Barry, struggling through the 
snow! Stop, Sam! ” 

“Where are you going, Winnie?” 
asked Kate. 

‘ ‘ To the store, for taters. ’ ’ 

“Jump into the sleigh, and we’ll 
take you there. Now cuddle down 
under the buffalo-robe. 

“ What are you going to have for 
New Year’s dinner, Mike? ” asked 
Tommy. 

“Taters and turkey-stuffing.” 

“ Turkey- stuffing ! but where’s the 
turkey? ” asked Joe. 

“Pa has been sick three weeks, and 
it took so much money for the doctor’s 
medicine, that ma said we couldn’t 
have turkey ; but she has sage and all 
the other things to make the stuffing. ’ ’ 
144 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


“ And ma said it would smell, and 
perhaps taste, like turkey,” added 
Winnie. 

‘ ‘ Smell and taste like turkey ! oh my ! 
oh my! I shall burst! ” and Joe roared 
with laughter, in which Tommy joined. 

“ Drive to the market, Sam. They 
shall have a turkey for the stuff- 
ing. Now, who wants to have a hand 
in this good time on New Year’s Day? ” 
asked Kate. 

‘ ‘ I do ! ” shouted Tommy. 

“ It is a worthy object, and I’ll help 
it. You can put me down for a bushel 
of potatoes, ” said Joe, scratching his 
head. “ Ma said, ‘Tell the man to 
send half a peck, ’ ’ ’ shouted little Mike 
under the buffalo-robe. 

“Kate,” whispered Mary, “I have 
brought you a basket of apples, — they 
are in the sleigh-box, — and I want to 
be in the good time. Can I give half 
the apples to the children? 

145 


NEW YEAR S DAY 


Oh, yes, Mary! it is just the thing 
for the dessert,” said Kate, clapping 
her hands. 

Sam found a plump, tender turkey, 
and the man put a bushel of potatoes 
into a large bag. Sam contributed a 
dozen sweet oranges to the feast. 

“You pay the bill, Sam, and we’ll 
pay you,” said Joe. 

“All right! I’ll trust you,” replied 
Sam. 

“ Hallo! there’s Jim Murray’s bake- 
cart on runners, and Jim is on it,” 
shouted Tommy. 

“Holdup, Sam! We’ll get some- 
thing there. — Wish you a happy New 
Year, Mr. Murray. Will you give a 
couple of loaves of bread for Mike 
Barry’s dinner? Mike has been ill 
three weeks,” said Kate. 

“To be sure I will; and here are a 
couple of cranberry pies to go with the 
bread; and may Mike have good luck 
146 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


the New Year! He’s a hard-working, 
honest man, is Mike Barry. ’ ’ 

Mike and Winnie popped up their 
little heads from under the buffalo- 
robe, and looked with longing eyes at 
the pies and bread, as Joe put them in 
the sleigh-box with the turkey and the 
rest of the dinner. 

‘ ‘ And what have you there under 
the buffalo, — Mike’s two kids, giving 
them a sleigh-ride? Well, well! may 
the good Lord protect you, and give 
you many happy New Years! ” 

‘ ‘ The same to you, Mr. Murray, ’ ’ 
replied Kate, as they glided over the 
crusty snow. 

‘ ‘ I wonder if they have wood and 
coal? ” asked Sam, as they were speed- 
ing homeward. 

‘ ‘ Pa bought a load of wood and two 
tons of coal before he took sick ; and ma 
said that was one great comfort, that we 
would not be cold,” replied Winnie. 

147 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


Mike was at the window, and Mrs. 
Barry was at the door, as the sleigh 
drove up to the cottage. 

‘ ‘ Oh, where are my poor little 
bairns? ” cried Mrs. Barry, wringing 
her hands. 

“Here they are, safe and sound,” 
replied Kate, jumping out of the sleigh, 
and helping little Mike and Winnie to 
alight. Joe carried the turkey into the 
house, and laid it upon the table before 
the astonished Mike. 

“ Now, Mrs. Barry, I guess you and 
I can carry in the potatoes, and Kate, 
Mary, and Tommy will bring in the 
dessert. ’ ’ 

“ Oh, ma, we’ll have turkey with 
the stuffing now ! ’ ’ cried the children, 
clapping their hands as they danced 
ai'ound the table, that was loaded with 
the New Year’s dinner. 

‘ ‘ Me man Mike tuk sick wid a bad 
cold an’ fever, but the doctor says he 
148 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


can go to wark the next week,” said 
Mrs. Barry. 

“Faith, Norah, the sight o’ this 
New Year’s feast has put new life an’ 
strength in mesilf already; an’ may the 
Lord and the Mother av God bless yer 
swate sowls ! ’ ’ 

“An’ give ye many happy New 
Years, an’ make ye all saints in 
Hiven, ” added Mrs. Barry, as the 
little party entered the sleigh. 

“Pa, are they some of the angels 
that God sends to the world on New 
Year’s Day to see what the poor chil- 
dren want ?” asked little Mike. 

‘ ‘ And told them that we wanted a 
turkey? ” added Winnie. 

‘ ‘ I have faith it must be so, Mikey . 
To be sure, they are God’s blessed 
angels on earth,” replied Mrs. Barry, 
preparing the turkey for the ready- 
made stuffing. 


149 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


We are going to make molasses 
candy in the kitchen this evening,” 
whispered Kate to Mary, as they as- 
sembled in the warm sitting-room after 
dinner, where Joe told the story of 
Winnie and Mike Barry’s New Year’s 
dinner of potatoes and turkey- stuffing. 

“ Did you enjoy giving to the dinner. 
Tommy? ” asked Ruth. 

“You bet I did! I never felt so 
good in my life. 

“ And I felt big, and happy too, 
when I saw Mike’s pale, thin face, and 
how glad and astonished he looked 
when I stood the bag of potatoes in 
the corner of the room. I’ve got the 
money that I earned last summer help- 
ing Sam in the garden, and it’s more 
than enough to pay for the potatoes, ’ ’ 
said Joe. 

“ So have I,” said Tommy. “ Kate 
and I pay for the turkey. ’ ’ 

“I say, Kate, why can’t we find a 
150 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


needy family every New Year’s Day, 
and buy their dinner? ” 

‘ ‘ I second the motion, ’ ’ cried 
Tommy. 

‘ ‘ I wish I could help, ’ ’ said Mary 
to her grandmother. 

“You can, my dear. You shall 
make a cheese, and give a basket of 
apples. Where there is a will, there 
is a way; and our Heavenly Father will 
help those who help others. ’ ’ 

“Of course we must have Mary in 
the good time, ’ ’ said Kate. 

At last silence stole over the group. 
The murmur of the children’s voices 
died away as they watched the fading 
sunlight of that short winter day. 

The moon was shedding its silvery 
light through the windows as Bridget 
entered with the lamp. 

“ Let us go and crack the nuts, and 
pop the corn for the corn- balls, ’ ’ said 
Joe. 


151 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


‘ ‘ Is the kitchen ready for the chil- 
dren, Bridget? ” asked Nurse. 

“Faith, an’ it’s the pot an’ ’lasses 
that’s ready for the children. ” 

“Oh Biddy, you’re a trump!” 
shouted Joe, as they ran to the kitchen. 

The molasses was soon boiling. Joe 
stirred it, while Tommy and Mary 
cracked the nuts, and Kate popped the 
corn. 

“Aisy! Aisy! ” cried Bridget, as Joe 
was stirring the molasses with great 
force. 

Nurse took some of the boiling mo- 
lasses, and made a plateful of corn-balls ; 
while Kate stirred walnuts and almonds 
into some candy, turned it into a flat 
dish, and set it away to cool. The 
children put on long aprons, and 
washed and buttered their hands; then 
each one took a portion of candy, and 
pulled and worked it until it became a 
rich golden color; part they braided, 
152 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


part they twisted, and cut into sticks ; 
then it was put on a flat dish, and laid 
in the snow to be hard and brittle. 
Kate carried a plateful into the sitting- 
room, where it was eaten and praised, 
which delighted the children. 

The next morning Joe came to the 
breakfast table with a very sober face. 

“What is the matter? Has the 
molasses candy taken away your appe- 
tite? ” asked his father. 

“No. The holidays are over, and I 
don’t know one of my lessons,” grum- 
bled the boy, ‘ ‘ Barnes will be savage. 
He always is after holidays, especially 
if he has been living high. It makes 
him cross and gouty. 

“ He can’t be worse than Chase. I 
would like to take some molasses candy 
to school, to treat my mates; but he 
knows, as soon as he looks at us, if we 
have had anything. He has smellers 
like a cat. I can study better if I have 
153 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 

something to chew. I wish I had a 
stomach like a cow, where I could hide 
my cuds, ’ ’ muttered Kate. 

“Joe, you have no excuse for not 
knowing your lessons, ’ ’ said his father, 
preparing to go to his office. 

“ Come, Kate, get into the box-sled, 
and I’ll draw you to school. Get in. 
Tommy: there’s room,” said Joe; and 
he put the cord of the sled over his 
shoulders and under his arms. 

“ Now, Joe, don’t slue the sled when 
you turn the corners, and throw us 
out,” said Kate. And they started 
off, shouting in high glee. 

“Wait, and I’ll come for you at 
noon, Kate,” said Joe, stopping at the 
gate of the play- ground. 

Kate took her satchel of books, and 
ran up the steps. As she entered the 
schoolroom the girls were standing 
around the stove, waiting for the 
master. 


154 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


“Oh, Kate ! ’’ cried May Wilson, 
“ did you have a good time in the 
holidays ? ’’ 

“ Splendid ! last night we made mo- 
lasses candy. I’ve brought a stick for 
each of you, so eat it before Chase 
comes. 

May Wilson took her station at the 
window, to give the signal when the 
master came in sight. 

“ It’s half-past nine ; I think Chase 
must have gone on a buss last night, 
and over-slept this morning,’’ said 
Emma Carey. 

“What’s a buss?’’ asked Hattie 
Gage. 

“Why, a kissing party,’’ replied 
Emma. 

‘ ‘ Christopher Columbus ! how on 
earth could he kiss any one with that 
bushy mustache and beard ! why, it is 
half a foot from his ferocious beard to 
his mouth,” said May Wilson. 

155 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


“ That’s true ! All you can see of 
his face is his nose and eyes, and they 
serve him well (to see and to smell),” 
responded Nellie Talbot, putting the 
last of her candy into her mouth. 

‘ ‘ Here comes Chase, with a ven- 
geance. My gracious ! His head will 
get here before his heels,” said May, 
as they all scampered to their seats. 

“ Did you get a flogging, Joe ? ” 
asked Mr. Westburne at dinner time, 
looking at Joe’s cross face. Tommy 
began to laugh. 

“ Now giggle ! you deserved it as 
much as I did,” grumbled Joe. 

“ What was it ! ” asked aunt Martha. 
“ Didn’t you know your lessons ? ” 

“ ’Twasn’t that. Barnes left his 
desk unlocked, and Bob Wells took a 
box of cayenne pepper that he puts on 
the boys’ tongues when they say bad 
words ; and when Bob saw Barnes 
156 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


coming, he turned it on the top of the 
stove. Barnes leaned over the stove to 
warm himself, and the pepper went 
into his nose and eyes. It made him 
sneeze and blow his nose like fury, and 
he flogged all of us because we wouldn’t 
tell who did it. Tommy and some 
more little cowards ran out of the 
schoolroom when Barnes came in, and 
they looked in through the window. ’ ’ 

“ I wasn’t going to stay in the room 
and get a flogging, when I could save 
my shins and see the fun outside. 
Jupiter ! Didn’t you all dance a jig 
when Barnes put that whip about 
your legs ? Oh Father, ’twas a jolly 
show ! ” and Tommy burst into a 
hearty laugh. 

“ I hope you may get it sometime, 
and dance more than I did,” said 
Joe. 

‘‘ Come, boys, no more words. Eat 
your dinner, or the sehool-bell will ring 
157 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


before you have finished,” said Mr. 
W estburne. 

‘‘ Father, can’t the boys and I go on 
the pond to skate after school ? ’ ’ asked 
Kate. The girls say the ice is hard 
enough. We will keep near the edge. ” 

“ No : wait until next week ; and if 
this cold snap continues, you can go 
then. 

It was a bitter cold day toward the 
end of February. The sun was hidden 
behind leaden clouds ; it was too cold 
to snow. . Ruth and Alice were prac- 
ticing a duet on the piano, while Mrs. 
W estburne and her sister sat by the fire 
in the cozy chamber. The sisters 
talked long and fervently of girlhood 
days, recalling many forgotten epi- 
sodes. 

‘‘ As soon as summer comes, I shall 
go to Glenfield, ” said Mrs. Westburne. 
‘ ‘ I want to see the dear old home and 
visit the places of my childhood once 
158 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


more. I should have gone last sum- 
mer, but Edward thought the sea-air 
would be better for me. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I am sure the country air among 
your native hills will do you more good 
than all the doctor’s medicine,” replied 
her sister. 

‘ ‘ 1 shall take Kate with me. ’ ’ 

“ Let her go with me next month. 
Mother and the children will be de- 
lighted to see her. ’ ’ 

“ She has never been away from 
home. I am afraid she will be home- 
sick, Martha. 

‘ ‘ I think not. She was saying yes- 
terday that she would like to go, and 
Lucy begged me to bring her. She 
could go to the village Academy with 
Lucy, and there would be enough to 
do to keep her from being homesick. ’ ’ 
“ I will see what Edward says ; — 
but how late the children are coming 
home ! It is nearly sunset. ’ ’ 

159 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


“ They have gone skating on the 
pond. I heard Joe tell Kate to take 
her skates,” said Nurse Ashby. 

Those children will be frozen if 
they stay out of doors much longer. 
’Tis the coldest day we’va had this 
year,” said Alice, coming into the 
room. “ But here they come, thrash- 
ing their arms to keep warm. 

“ Oh Biddy, give us something to eat 
and be quick about it, or I’ll eat you! 
I’m as hungry as a wolf,” shouted Joe. 

“ An’ can’t ye wait a bit for the 
tay? ” 

“Well, hurry it up, then; and, 
Biddy, don’t forget plenty of meat and 
fried potatoes; tay won’t reach the 
hungry spot. ’ ’ 

The boys pulled off their fur caps, 
coats, and mittens, and ran after Kate 
to their mother’s room. 

“ Well, children, you must be very 
cold? ” said Mrs. Westburne. 

160 




t 





Grandmamma Hale 


I 


I 


NEW YEAR’S DAY 


“No, mother, we’re as warm as 
toast ; for the boys made a rousing fire 
on the pond, and we had a fine time 
skating ; — and mother, ’ ’ continued 
Tommy “you should have seen Kate 
skate. She flew over the ice like a 
bird.’’ 

“ That’s because she is light and 
little,’’ replied Joe. 

‘ ‘ Glad I am little, so long as I feel 
as big as anybody; and I’m growing. 
Besides, mother said the other day, 
that the best goods came out of little 
bundles. Didn’t you, mother? ’’ 

“Yes,’’ replied Mrs. Westburne, 
smiling. 


KATE S VISIT IN THE COUN- 
TRY— THE INDIANS’ 
GRAVES 


The forest seems to listen for the rustle 
of the leaves, 

And the very skies to glisten in the hope 
of summer eves ; 

The cattle lift their voices from the val- 
leys and the hills, 

And the feather d race rejoices ivith a 
gush of tuneful hills ; 

And if this cloudless arch fills the poet' s 
song ivith glee. 

Oh thou changing month of March, he 
it dedicate to thee." 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Kate’s visit in the country. — the 

INDIANS’ GRAVES. 


T he windy month of March 
had come, and with it came 
uncle Nathan. It was decided 
that Kate should go with her uncle and 
aunt to Glenfield, and they were to 
start in a few days. It was Wednes- 
day afternoon, and she had been with 
her sisters to buy some articles she 
would need in the country. 


KATE’S VISIT 


“ Look, mamma, at my pretty writ- 
ing-desk, and such large paper with 
envelopes to match. The large paper 
I shall use when I write to you; for I 
shall write a little every day, so it will 
be a very long letter. The small pa- 
per will do to answer my schoolmates ’ 
letters ; and look at these little pack- 
ages of ink powder, so many pens, and 
such a beautiful penholder, and this 
rubber to erase ink when I make a mis- 
take. These skipping-cords and balls 
I bought for cousins Lucy and Mattie. ’ ’ 
“ Reach me that package upon the 
table, Kate.” 

“ Oh, what a lovely work-box! Is it 
for me, mamma? ” 

“Yes. You know how to use your 
needle very well, and you will find 
everything you need in the box. I am 
sure you will never go with a hole in 
your stocking, or a rent in your dress. ’ ’ 
“ Indeed I will not. I shall not 
166 


KATE’S VISIT 


have dear Nurse to keep me tidy, ” said 
Kate, with a quiver in her voice ; ‘ ‘ and 
if I don’t know how to mend my 
clothes nicely, aunty will teach me. 
What a pretty thimble, with my name 
on it; and so many spools of cotton; 
and what a parcel of needles, and what 
cunning little scissors ! Do you think 
I shall be as happy when I am a 
woman as I am now, mamma? ” 

“You will always be happy as long 
as your thoughts and acts are pure and 
noble.” 

“You will be awful homesick with- 
out Tommy and me to play with, 
Kate,” said Joe, the day before the 
journey. “I’ll give you my new kite; 
it will be fun flying it in the fields. ’ ’ 
“That’s so,” said Tommy; “and 
you may have my best bow and arrows. 
You’ll find plenty of squirrels to shoot 
in the woods. ’ ’ 

“ By jingo! If it wasn’t so far, I’d 
167 


KATE’S VISIT 


walk up there every Saturday after- 
noon,” said Joe. 

“ Well, boys, I shall miss you dread- 
fully ; but I will send you a letter with 
mamma’s; and papa has promised to 
take you, if you are good boys, when 
he comes for mamma and me in the 
autumn. ’ ’ 

The next morning Kate had no ap- 
petite for breakfast. ‘ ‘ I want to see 
grandpapa and grandmamma, Lucy and 
Mattie, but I am sorry to leave you,” 
said she with the tears in her eyes. 

“Oh, you are a brave little girl, so 
cheer up. There is Sam at the door 
with the carriage, ’ ’ said her father. 

“ Here is a little basket of sand- 
wiches, doughnuts, cheese, and cold 
chicken. You will be hungry on the 
road,” said Nurse. 

Tommy was wiping his tears with 
the back of his hand, while Joe was 
winking to keep his from coming. 

168 


KATE’S VISIT 


“ Good-bye, me honey,” cried Brid- 
get, wiping away a tear with the cor- 
ner of her apron. 

“Don’t forget to write as soon as 
you can,” said Ruth, as Kate kissed 
them all. 

“You will find a little Testament in 
your trunk. I have marked some pas- 
sages for you to read, ” said her mother 
tenderly kissing her at the carriage 
door. 

Katie looked back as they turned 
the corner of the lane. There stood 
the dear ones, waving a last adieu. 

The carriage soon arrived at the sta- 
tion, where they took the stage; and 
Kate forgot her parting in watching the 
strange faces around her. It was late 
in the afternoon when they entered the 
city of Manchester, where they ex- 
changed the stage for the cars. 

The bright crimson clouds in the 
west showed where the sun had disap- 
169 


KATE’S VISIT 


peared, and darkness was stealing over 
hill and dale. Now and then a twink- 
ling star appeared in the elear sky, and 
Kate thought of home. Were they 
thinking of her, and would they miss 
her? “ I am sure mamma will, for this is 
the hour I always sat upon my little chair 
by her side, and watched the evening 
star, while she told me a Bible story. ’ ’ 
“You are tired, dear,” said uncle 
Nathan, drawing her to him. “ Try 
to sleep a little while, for we have a 
long way to ride after we leave the 
cars; ’’ and, resting her head against 
her uncle’s broad chest, Kate slept. 

“Dear child, how cheerful she has 
been gill day! I have been amused 
watching her. I don’t think anything 
has escaped her notice, ’ ’ said her aunt. 

‘ ‘ Ten minutes of nine, ’ ’ said uncle 
Nathan, looking at his watch. 

‘ ‘ The cars go very slow, on account 
of the freshet. The water is over the 
170 


KATE’S VISIT 


track in many places,” replied the con- 
ductor, as he was taking the tickets. 

‘ ‘ Here we are at last. ’ ’ 

Kate opened her eyes, and asked, in 
a bewildered tone, “ Where am I? ” 
“Almost home, dear,” said aunt 
Martha; and in a few moments they 
were in the sleigh, which was waiting 
for them at the station. 

Kate was a;gain nestled in her uncle’s 
arms, but now she was wide awake. 
The moon was shining brightly 
through the tall pine trees as they 
rode through the forest; but soon they 
emerged into the open country, where 
here and there the snow lay in patches, 
looking dreary in the moonlight. Lights 
were seen shining through the windows 
of the scattered farm-houses. 

“ Do you see those two lights on the 
hill ? That is our home, ’ ’ said aunt 
Martha. 

“Is it very far?” 

171 


KATE S VISIT 


“About one mile,” replied her 
uncle. 

“AVe shall soon be there. Then 
you shall have a warm supper and a 
soft bed, and we are tired enough to 
enjoy them,'’ said aunt Martha. 

“ I don’t see the lights now. ’’ 

“ That is because we are going 
around the hill. You will see them 
soon. — Home again, ’ ’ said her aunt, as 
John drove up to a fine old brick farm- 
house. A bright wood fire was burn- 
ing in the fire-place, giving a cheerful 
look to the large dining-room. 

“ Well, I’m glad we’ve got home 
safe and sound. 

“ Ah! how’d ye do ? ’’ said Hannah, 
a middle-aged woman, coming into the 
room where Kate stood gazing at the 
glowing fire. ‘ ‘ I guess ye must be 
hungry, ain^t ye ? ’’ 

“ Let us have supper, Hannah,’’ said 
uncle Nathan, coming into the room. 

172 


KATE’S VISIT 


“ It is all ready and waiting, sir; ” 
and Hannah darted out of the room, 
returning with a tray, upon which were 
a juicy beef- steak, fricasseed chicken, 
and smoking potatoes. 

‘ ‘ Come, Kate, drink a glass of this 
warm milk, then you shall go to bed. 
Lucy and Mattie will be home in the 
morning,” said aunt Martha. 

‘‘ Where are they ? ” asked Kate. 

“ They are at their aunt Emily’s. 
Come and see how you like your room. 
It is by the side of mine, so you won’t 
be lonely. That is Lucy’s bed, and 
this is yours. Little Mattie sleeps in 
my room. 

“ It is very pretty,” said Kate, look- 
ing around the large, pleasant room, 
with its warm carpet and bright furni- 
ture. 

‘ ‘ Here is your trunk in this corner. 
You will hear the bell when it is time 
to dress in the morning. 

173 


KATE’S VISIT 


The warm beams of the morning sun 
were shining through the windows 
when Kate awoke. Soon the bell 
rang, and, jumping up, she dressed her- 
self quickly. “ How good that coffee 
smells! ” said she, as the savory odor 
stole to her nostrils. She heard her 
cousins inquiring for her, then a timid 
knock at the door. 

“ Come in,” said Kate. 

Lucy and Mattie entered, exclaim- 
ing, ‘ ‘ I am so glad you have come ! 
we’ll have such fine times.” 

After breakfast they went to see the 
brook of “Sweet Waters.” “There 
it is, sparkling and murmuring among 
the bushes and rocks,” said Lucy. 

“Oh, how lovely! so full of little 
water- falls ! ” exclaimed Kate. 

“ Let us follow it over the hill until 
we reach the fountain, where grand- 
papa made a little arbor with seats, ” 
said Lucy. “ Did you ever see snake- 
174 


KATE’S VISIT 


root growing ? ’ ’ she continued, as she 
pulled up long roots of it by the side 
of the stream. “You see the leaves 
are shaped like a snake’s head ; that is 
why it is called snakeroot. And by 
and by the water- cresses will be grow- 
ing by the side of the brook. 

‘ ‘ Do you see that forest of big trees, 
yonder ? Well, those are slippery-elm 
trees. The men cut off the outside 
bark, then they peel off the inside bark 
(which is tender and elastic) as far as 
they can. Then they throw it up to a 
man who is in the tree, and he strips it 
up, until it reaches the limbs ; then 
they cut it off. 

“ All those bushes by the stone wall 
are witch-hazel. The doctors call it 
haniamelis. 

‘ ‘ Oh, what a big hole in this tree ! 
and the top has blown off ! ’ ’ said Kate. 

“ Papa’s men cut it off last October 
to get the wild honey. They had to 
175 


KATE’S VISIT 


cover their faces with fine netting, and 
their hands with leather gloves. John 
said the comb and honey weighed 
eighty-six pounds. Hannah melted the 
wax, and put the honey into jars ; but 
John left enough for the bees to live 
upon through the winter. 

‘ ‘ But what a lot of hollow- trees ! ’ ’ 
exclaimed Kate. 

“We call them honey trees, or bee- 
hive trees,” answered Lucy. “Here 
we are at the fountain of the brook. 
See how the water gushes out of the 
rocks under the hillock. Take the 
dipper, and drink some of it, Kate. ’ ’ 

“ What a queer taste, so cold and 
sweet ! ” 

“ Father says that an Indian doctor 
told his grandfather that the white man 
did not know what virtue there was in 
this water, ” said Lucy. “But look, 
Kate. The sun is almost overhead, 
and we must be going toward home. ’ ’ 
176 


KATE’S VISIT 


“What’s that horrible noise?” 
asked Kate, in alarm. 

“That’s Hannah blowing the horn 
for the men to come to dinner, ’ ’ said 
Lucy, laughing. 

After dinner they went to visit the 
Indians’ graveyard on the bank of the 
Connecticut River, which flowed on 
the opposite side of the road in front of 
the house. Lucy opened a big gate, 
and they entered a large field, where 
the warm sun was melting away the 
few patches of snow, and the new 
spring grass was beginning to start 
from the soil. The mounds of the 
Indians’ graves were between two 
clusters of trees, which seemed to have 
grown from the roots of the old trees. 

“ Look, Lucy, how green the grass 
is on the mounds ! ” said Kate. 

“ It is always green here before it is 
anywhere else ; and, Kate, when I 
put flowers upon the mounds in our 
177 


KATE’S VISIT 


graveyard, I always remember the poor 
Indians’ graves. See ! ” and Lucy 
pointed to the dried bunches of flowers 
which had lain under the winter’s 
snow. 

“ Oh, let us sit upon the rocks, and 
look at the waves as they dash over 
that little island in the middle of the 
river ! ’ ’ said Kate. ‘ ‘ What place is 
that, where the church and those white 
houses are, the other side of the river? ” 

“That is Rivertown. It is in Ver- 
mont, ’ ’ answered Lucy ‘ ‘ Look, Kate, 
how lovely is the ‘Hill of Sweet Waters’ 
in the sunshine! And how glad the 
poor Indians’ hearts were when they 
saw ‘ Home Hill ’ from the river, as 
they returned at sunset after fishing 
and hunting! I think the white men 
were very cruel to the Indians. I am 
glad my forefathers were not. Let us 
go under the bars into the ‘ Cook 
Lot.’ You see these holes filled 
178 


KATE’S VISIT 


with stones ? They were the ovens 
where the Indians cooked their food. 
Father calls it the ‘ Cook Lot,’ and he 
puts the sheep here in the summer. I 
will ask father to tell you the story of 
the last Indian family, who are buried 
in the graves under the beech-tree. 

UNCi.E Nathan’s story. 

A form passed 'before me, — a vision of 
one 

Who mourned for his nation, his country, 
and kin. 

He ivalked on the shore, noiv deserted and 
lone. 

Where the home of his tribe in their glory 
had been'' 

My ancestors bought this land from 
a remnant of the Pennacook tribe, who 
were the most peaceable and intelligent 
of all the New England tribes of Indi- 
ans, and whose wigwams were scattered 
179 


KATE’S VISIT 


on the bank of the river. About the 
time my grandfather married, there 
were only two Indians — Lancet and 
his squaw Tamoo — living in a wigwam 
in the field. Lancet helped grandfather 
on the farm, and Tamoo helped grand- 
mother in the house. 

One day, when my father was a few 
days old, Tamoo brought her little 
boy, a week old, for my grandmother 
to give him an English name. So 
Tamoo ’s baby was baptized with the 
name of David, and my father was 
named Nathan; and the little lads were 
taught to read, write, and cipher in 
the school-house which stands by the 
road to-day. 

The God of the pale-face was their 
God; and every Sunday, Lancet, 
Tamoo, and little Dave, dressed in 
their best clothes, would go in their 
canoe to church in Rivertown. 

Nothing gave Lancet more pleasure 
180 


KATE’S VISIT 


than taking the two boys in his canoe, 
to spear the great salmon and shad 
which were then found in the Con- 
necticut River, for there were no dash- 
ing wheels to frightened away the 
fish. Nature’s God had given the 
waters of these rivers as a highway for 
the swarming fish to advance and in- 
crease for the support of the red man. 
Tamoo sometimes went with them, 
and then they would hunt in the forest, 
and bring home game; but with the 
English civilization, the schools of fish 
and the tribes of red men have become 
extinct from the rivers and the shores. 

Lancet, Tamoo, and little Dave 
lived and ate in my grandfather’s 
house, but slept in their wigwam. One 
Christmas Day, when Dave was twelve 
years old, Tamoo and he went to 
church in Rivertown. On returning 
home, they went too near Rock Island, 
where there is always a strong current, 
181 


KATE’S VISIT 


and, the ice being thin, they broke 
through, but managed to climb upon 
the rocks. Lancet and my father heard 
their shouts, and paddled the canoe to 
the island, and took them off ; but they 
were wet to the skin, and were ill for 
many days. Tamoo’s cold settled in 
the lung-fever. She died, and was 
buried under the beech-tree. 

Little Dave would sit by his mother’s 
grave and mourn for hours, and some- 
times fall asleep with his head resting 
upon the mound. Lancet and my 
father tried to divert his thoughts; 
and they would spend the summer 
days with him in the canoe, fishing, or 
paddling up and down the beautiful 
river. He followed his father wherever 
he went, as if afraid of losing him 
also ; and his constant cry was, “ I 
want my mother.” Both Lancet and 
Dave slept in the chamber where 
Tamoo died, and where, when the 
182 


KATE’S VISIT 


autumn leaves were dying, little Dave 
died also. 

After the death of Dave, life had no 
charm for Lancet. He nevermore 
paddled his canoe upon the placid Con- 
necticut; but he would walk to and 
fro upon its shores, gazing sadly at the 
two graves under the beech-tree. 

One afternoon my father found him 
sitting in his canoe, which was upon 
the shore. He was looking mournfully 
around him. ‘ ‘ I have been a friend to 
the white man, and he has been my 
friend. His God is my God. My 
kindred are gone. I shall go to them, 
but they will never come to me, ’ ’ said 
Lancet. He gave his canoe, his bow, 
arrows, and fishing-rods to my father; 
and was buried by the side of little 
Dave. There is nothing left to re- 
mind us to-day of the Indian but the 
names of some of the mountains and 
rivers, and a few scattered graves; 

183 


KATE’S VISIT 


and this is what is termed the prog- 
ress of civilization, — killing the ori- 
ginal inhabitants of a country, and 
taking their possessions. 



KATE AND THE OLD 
HOME 


A man he ivas to all the country deai\ 

And passing rich with forty pounds a 
year ; 

Remote from toions he ran his godly 
race^ 

Nor e'er had changed, nor wish'd to 
change his place!' 



CHAPTEH IX. 

KATE AND THE OLD HOME. 

M rs. WESTBURNE’S father 
was a clergyman, the Rev. 
Samuel Hale, greatly beloved 
and respected. He married the daugh- 
ter of a wealthy farmer in the village 
of Glenfield, and for forty years had 
preached the word of God. His flock, 
even to the lambs, oh how tenderly 
they were cared for in his day ! Gently 





AVliere Grandpapa Lived 






KATE AND THE OLD HOME 


he led them into the fold ! With what 
joy they listened to his pure and holy 
teachings ! How clearly he showed 
them that they were related to God as 
children to a father, and that the divine 
spirit would flow into their hearts so far 
as they sought its power, and yielded 
to its influence ? He had stood by bed- 
sides as souls passed beyond wrapped 
in the blessed hope of the righteous. 
The little children ran to meet the 
good man, and covered his hands with 
kisses, while he made their hearts glad 
with his smiles and caresses. 

In his early days other churches 
had offered him a larger stipend and a 
more conspicuous place in the world, 
but he was not ambitious for this 
world’s goods or praise. His work and 
heart were with the people of his first 
choice. There were all his dearest 
earthly ties. 

‘‘We will not have time to go to 
189 


KATE AND THE OLD HOME 


father’s until after the sermon, for the 
chureh-bell is ringing,” said aunt Mar- 
tha, as they drew near the village. 

“Now look, Kate. We are on the 
high-road, and grandfather’s house is 
in the valley,” said Lucy. “There it 
is, — that white one with green blinds, 
and piazza around the front. In the 
summer it is almost hidden by those 
large elm- trees; and when the grass is 
green on the lawn, it is lovely.” 

“Do you see the orchard this side 
of the house ? Some of the trees have 
two and three different kinds of apples, 
and there are pears and peaches; and 
nice fruit it is. Grandpapa doesn’t let 
anything grow on his farm that isn’t 
good. ” 

“ What a long hill ! Is that the 
hill where the brooklets run over the 
stones ? ” asked Kate. 

“Yes. It is the pasture where the 
cows feed ; and at sunset they go down 
190 


KATE AND THE OLD HOME 


that narrow lane to the bars, and wait 
until Caleb lets them out. The other 
side of the wall is a field, and in summer 
there are delicious strawberries in the 
grass. Yonder is the graveyard, and 
there’s the church on the common.” 

Many carriages were in the stalls 
behind the church, and the people 
were seated when the family entered 
the pew behind the minister’s. 

‘ ‘ Grandmamma is not here, ’ ’ whis- 
pered Lucy, 

The organ ceased playing, and Kate 
looked anxiously at the pulpit as the 
white-haired pastor arose. A smile 
lighted the deep, earnest eyes as he 
looked down upon the uplifted faces of 
his grandchildren. 

“Mother’s eyes are just like his,” 
thought Kate, ‘ ‘ and I know I shall 
love him dearly. I must remember 
the text, and what I can of the sermon, 
to write to mamma. 

191 


KATE AND THE OLD HOME 

The prayer was offered, the hymn 
sung, and all eyes were fixed upon the 
faee of the pastor as his deep voice 
pronounced the text, ‘ ‘ Revelation, 
Twenty-second chapter, seventeenth 
verse. ” He spoke of the love of God, 
and the glOry of Heaven as seen by St. 
John in his Revelation. He told how 
anxious God was that all should enjoy 
that beautiful world. ‘ ‘ Almost the 
last words of this Revelation, ’ ’ said the 
pastor, “are God’s spirit, and the 
Church of God pleading with man to 
come and drink the waters of life, and 
live. Oh my dear people, is there an 
object which our Heavenly Father has 
made which does not delight the eye and 
gladden the heart? Then, if His works 
are so perfect in this sinful world, what 
imagination can picture that land 
where the splendor of God’s counte- 
nance is the light therein, where there 
shall be no parting, no sin, no death! 

192 


KATE AND THE OLD HOME 


Is it not worth striving for, worth re- 
sisting the false and fleeting pleasures 
of the world ? 

The sun of my earthly life is set- 
ting. I am gently gliding down the 
stream; and sweet foretaste of that 
peace with God I have to cheer me on. 
Soon I shall see the Holy City, the 
New Jesusalem. I expect to meet 
many of my dear ones there. And 
shall I see you in that beautiful world? 

“ Let us live the Christ’s life, and 
commune daily with our Divine Father 
as our Saviour did while here on earth. 

These were some of the words of her 
grandfather’s sermon that made an im- 
pression on Kate’s mind. She watched 
him as he descended from the pulpit, 
and thought she had never seen a face 
so peaceful and heavenly. 

‘ ‘ So this is my little granddaughter, ’ ’ 
he said, taking Kate upon his knee as 
they rode home. 


193 


KATE AND THE OLD HOME 


“ How is mother ? She was not at 
church,” asked Aunt Martha. 

“ She went this morning, but com- 
plained of a headache. I left her rest- 
ing upon the lounge. 

“ What a long, wide hall ! ” thought 
Kate, as they went to the end of it, 
where a glass door looked into the gar- 
den. The sitting-room door was open; 
and grandmamma sat in a large arm- 
chair, covered with bright- colored 
chintz. 

‘ ‘ W ell, this is a pleasant surprise, ’ ’ 
said she to Aunt Martha. “ When 
did you come home ? And how is my 
Ruth ? ” 

“ Here is a letter from Ruth. She 
comes in July.” 

Grandmamma folded Kate in her 
arms. 

“You must stay with me. I want 
you to read to me, as your mother 
used to. ’ ’ 


194 


KATE AND THE OLD HOME 


“ And what shall I do, grandma ? ” 
asked Lucy. 

“You can come and visit her when 
you want to ; and when her mother 
comes, she can make you a longer visit. ’ ’ 

So it was arranged that Lucy and 
Mattie should spend Saturday with 
Kate. She stood on the piazza, wav- 
ing her handkerchief at Lucy as the 
carriage passed along the high-road 
over the hill. When they disappeared 
from sight, she returned to the sitting- 
room. A fire was burning in the fire- 
place ; and grandmamma said, ‘ ‘ A 
bright fire upon the hearth-stone is 
always cheerful company. 

“ Come here, Kate, and I will show 
you some pictures, and tell you their 
history,” said her grandfather, enter- 
ing the room with a large volume. 
Kate had heard her mother tell some 
of the stories, but the pictures were 
new to her. 


195 


KATE AND THE OLD HOME 


The sun had sunk behind the distant 
blue hills, and they sat in the twilight 
on that blessed Sabbath evening, gaz- 
ing at the bright clouds. 

“How bright the stars shine! and 
there is my star, brighter than all the 
rest,” said Kate, pointing to the even- 
ing star. 

“Your mother, when a little girl, 
would often stand at this window, and 
watch for the stars. She would say 
that God was lighting his lamps and 
opening the gates of heaven to send 
out his angels to guard His children 
while they slept. 

Nancy entered with a light, and 
spread the cloth upon the little round 
table. How delicious was the rasp- 
berry jam, the bread and butter, with 
the slices of cold ham ! After tea 
grandfather finished showing Kate the 
pictures. Then came the evening 
hymn, — 


196 


KATE AND THE OLD HOME 


/ love to steal a ivhile aioay, 

From every cumbering care. 

And spend the hours of setting day 
In humble, grateful prayer F 

The clock struck nine. Nancy and 
Caleb entered the room, and grand- 
papa read a chapter, and offered the 
evening prayer. The good-night kiss 
was given, and Nancy showed Kate her 
chamber. After closing the shutters 
she was left alone. She looked around 
the large room, at the high- posted bed- 
stead with its snow-white dimity cur- 
tains, the old-fashioned, high-backed 
chairs, and the home-made carpet. A 
little wood fire was burning in the fire- 
place. As she began to undress, a 
feeling of home-sickness came over her. 
The slow ticking of the old eight-day 
clock in the hall, and the mournful 
sound of the wind as it blew around 
the corner of the house, made her feel 
197 


KATE AND THE OLD HOME 


lonely. She missed Lucy’s company; 
and she thought of her cozy little room 
by the side of her mother’s, and she 
yearned to see the dear ones at home. 

“ To-morrow I will finish my letter 
to mamma, ’ ’ said Kate, as she brushed 
away the tears; and, climbing into the 
soft feather bed, she was soon asleep. 

The old clock in the hall was slowly 
striking seven when Kate opened her 
eyes the next morning. 

“ What pretty wall-paper ! ” she 
thought. “ I wonder if this was 
mamma’s room when she was a little 
girl. I would like to know where that 
door at the foot of my bed goes. ' ’ 

She jumped up, and, after dressing 
herself, she opened the door. 

‘‘Oh, what a nice room! I’ll ask 
grandmamma to let me have it. What 
pretty blue chintz curtains and low 
chairs! and the bed is just high enough 
for me. I shall fall out of the other 
198 


KATE AND THE OLD HOME 


some night, and get a bump. Here is 
a bureau for my white clothes, and a 
closet for my dresses. This little table 
will do to write upon, and upon this 
shelf I can put my work-box. The 
other room will do for mamma. ’ ’ 

She opened another door in the 
room. There was a little entry, with 
the back-stairs ; and another door, 
which she supposed opened into her 
grandfather’s study, as she heard his 
voice within. 

“Did you sleep well?” asked grand- 
mamma at the breakfast table. 

“ Yes, Grandmamma. — W as that 
mamma’s room when she was a little 
girl ? ” 

“No, my dear. After breakfast I 
will show you your mother’s room; 
and if you like it, Nancy shall make 
the bed so you can sleep there to- 
night. ’ ’ 

“Is it the room with the blue 
199 


KATE AND THE OLD HOME 


chintz curtains and wide window- 
seats ? ” 

“ Yes. How do you like it ? ” 

“ Very much. I was going to ask 
you to let me sleep there, grand- 
mamma. ” 

The warm days of spring had come, 
and Nature was putting on her robe of 
green. The frogs were croaking in the 
brook, and the birds were ehirping to 
their mates on the boughs of the trees 
in the orchard, where they were build- 
ing their nests. It was Saturday after- 
noon, and Kate, Lucy, and Mattie 
were returning from the woods, where 
they had been to gather spring flowers. 
As they were going home, they met 
their grandfather riding slowly up the 
hill. 

‘ ‘ Oh grandfather 1 where are you go- 
ing ? ’ ’ asked Lucy. 

‘ ‘ To visit an old blind lady. ’ ’ 

200 


KATE AND THE OLD HOME 


‘‘ Can we go with you ? ” 

“Yes, my children, I would like to 
have you ; ’ ’ and the girls scrambled 
into the carriage. 

“Are those the White Mountains 
that look so blue in the distance ? ’ ’ 
asked Kate. 

“No. Those are the Ascutney 
Mountains. They are in Vermont, 
and are named after a tribe of Indians 
who at one time lived around the base 
of the mountains. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ How did the Indians come to this 
country ? I thought the first hu- 
man beings were born in Asia,” said 
Lucy. 

‘ ‘ That question has often been 
asked. Indians are supposed to be 
of Asiatic origin, and may have crossed 
Bering Strait, which separates Asia 
from Alaska. 

They had arrived at Mrs. Lane’s 
cottage. The children sat by the win- 
201 


KATE AND THE OLD HOME 


dow while their grandfather read a 
chapter in the Bible, and they knelt 
when he prayed for the old blind 
lady. 

Tears filled the sightless eyes as the 
words of that heartfelt prayer touched 
her heart; and in a broken but sweet 
voice she sang a verse of the hymn, — 

How sweet the name of Jesus sounds 
In a heliever's ear ! 

It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds, 
And drives away his fear A 

“Your visits always do me good, 
my dear pastor. My affliction has 
brought me nearer God. He has given 
me more than He has taken away, and 
He cheers my soul with glimpses of 
Heaven. It is only a little while, 
when I shall see Him face to face; ” 
and a sweet smile lighted the thin, 
pale features. 


202 




Caleb’s Horses 


V. 


» A 




9 


^ 4 






KATE AND THE OLD HOME 


‘‘ Has Mrs. Lane always been blind, 
grandpapa ? ’ ’ asked Kate, as they rode 
home. 

“ No, my child. Erysipelas de- 
stroyed her sight a few years ago.” 




LETTERS FROM KATE 


Write soon ! Oh sweet request of Truth! 
How tenderly its accents come ! 

We heard it first in early youths 
When mothers watched us leaving homcT 



CHAPTER X. 

LETTERS FROM KATE. 

I T was Wednesday afternoon. The 
gray clouds hung low, and the rain 
pattered against the window where 
Joe and Tommy stood with doleful 
faces, waiting for the rain to cease. 

“We can’t go fishing to-day, that’s 
sure,” said Joe. 

“ Look, Joe ; there’s a bit of blue 
sky ! ” 


LETTERS FROM KATE 


‘‘Not enough for a patch on a 
sailor’s jacket, ” grumbled Joe. 

“Hallo ! there’s the postman ! ” 
and Tommy ran to the door. Mrs. 
Westburne was resting, as Tommy, 
followed by Joe, entered her chamber. 

“ Mamma, letters from Glenfield, 
and one from Kate, ’ ’ cried Tommy. 

With tearful eyes the mother read the 
following, while the two boys listened 
in breathless silence. 

Dear Mamma, — I have been at 
grandpapa’s house two weeks last Sun- 
day. The first night I was a little 
homesick ; but I’ve not been so since, 
for grandmamma is so kind and gentle. 
Grandpapa often takes me to ride or 
walk. He is very lively, and not a bit 
grave, only when he is in the pulpit. 
Grandpapa says the religion of Christ 
makes the heart glad. He says “ My 
dear ’ ’ to grandma, and kisses her 
208 


LETTERS FROM KATE 

when he goes out, just as papa does 
you. 

“Now, mamma, I can see you 
smile, and you think that I am too 
observing, I think grandma must have 
been very pretty when she was young, 
she is such a nice-looking old lady. I 
have your room, and sleep in the same 
bed you slept in when you were a child. 
I sit on the window- seat, where you 
used to sit, and read ; but I like best 
the west window. That little pond in 
the meadow, the woodland, and the 
top of the White Mountains in the 
distance, are lovely ; and, mamma, 
when I think that this was your home, 
where you were born, and passed your 
happy childhood, and that you love it 
as well as I love my dear home, it 
seems more dear and lovely, because I 
imagine how you looked when a little 
girl, running over the rocks on the hill, 
playing in the pleasant chamber, or 
209 


LETTERS FROM KATE 


listening to the birds singing in the 
apple-trees in the orchard. 

The first Sunday I came here, I heard 
grandpapa preach on this text, ‘‘And 
the Spirit and the Bride say, Come. ’ ’ 
He said that God was loath to close 
the Bible without pleading once more 
with man. The sermon was so plain 
that any child could have understood 
it. I am sure there is not another lit- 
tle girl in the world who has better 
teaching and example given her than 
I have. 

I like to hear grandmamma talk about 
you. Yesterday she showed me some 
little white dresses and caps you used 
to wear. They were yellow with age. 
The cradle and crib, in which you and 
aunty used to sleep, are in a corner of 
the garret. 

Grandmamma says she likes to look 
at them once in a while, for they re- 
mind her of the time when you and 
210 


LETTERS FROM KATE 


aunty were little ehildren, and it brings 
back the spring-time of her happy mar- 
ried life. 

Dear Mamma, I think of you every 
day. Tell papa I send him a great 
hug and a kiss ; also the girls and dear 
N urse. 

Please write soon. 

Your little Kate. 

Dear Joe and Tommy, — You can’t 
think how pretty it is here ! Grand- 
papa has a great barnful of hay, and I 
climb the loft to look for hens’ eggs. 
I wish you were here to enjoy the fun 
with me. 

By the side of the house is a large 
orchard ; and some of the trees are very 
old, with their branches so low I can 
sit on them. Won’t it be fun in the 
summer to swing on the boughs and 
eat the apples ? 

This morning I went with grandpapa 
211 


LETTERS FROM KATE 


to see the river. It was full of big 
logs, and many men were on them, 
pushing them along. One of the men 
gave me a lot of spruce-gum. Grand- 
papa says the logs go to Manchester 
and other cities, and are sawed into 
spruce boards. 

When the snow melts on the moun- 
tains in the spring, there is always a 
freshet, and the water surrounds many 
houses on the low land. 

If you see any of my mates give them 
my love. 

Now be good boys, and write to me. 

Your loving sister, 
Kate. 

“ If I see any of her mates ! ’ ’ cried 
Joe, breaking the silence. “Why, 
mother, if I have as many girls after 
me when I am a man as I’ve had 
since Kate went away. I’ll lose my 
wits. Yesterday Annie Foster and 
212 


LETTERS FROM KATE 


Hattie Gage held me by my coat-tail 
half an hour, saying they were dying to 
see Kate, sending their love, and all 
that sort of sweet thing. I began to 
wonder if they would send such profes- 
sions of love to their absent husbands if 
they should ever marry ; and to get rid 
of them, I asked them, and they scam- 
pered. 

“Not before Annie boxed your ears, 
Joe,” said Tommy. 

“It is so dull without Kate. She 
could always find some fun for us on 
rainy days,” growled Joe. 

“It is a good day to look at your 
garden- tools and seeds. You know 
papa promised to buy all the vegetables 
you could raise in your gardens,” said 
their mother. 

“Why didn’t we think of that be- 
fore ? Next week we can begin to 
plant,” said Joe, as they ran off to 
work in the tool-house. 


LETTERS FROM KATE 


“No school to-day, mother,” cried 
Joe, as he and Tommy entered the sit- 
ting-room a few days after we left them 
in the tool-house ; “so Tommy and I 
are going to dig our gardens. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ But why is there no school ? ’ ’ 
asked Mrs. Westburne. 

“Some of the boys have filled the 
key- hole of the school- house with tar 
and gravel, and Master Barnes has got 
to have a locksmith to get inside to take 
the lock off. Little Jimmy Cole told 
the master that he was hiding behind a 
tree in the school-yard about sunset 
yesterday, and he saw Sam Davis and 
Bill Noyes do it. He said that one 
had a pot of tar, and the other a bag 
of gravel. T guess they did it, because 
I heard them say that they were going 
to give the scholars a vacation. ’ ’ 

“ And they have gone fishing. Bob 
Wells said he met them, and they 
wanted him to go with them, and 
214 


LETTERS FROM KATE 


he told them he wouldn’t,” said 
Tommy. 

A new lock was put on the school- 
house door, and the two boys were yet 
missing. The towm crier rang his bell 
at the corners of the streets, and read a 
description of the boys. 

‘ ‘ Two policemen were hiding in the 
school-house yard last night,” said 
Tommy, a few days later. “Jack 
Talbert said he was going home, and 
he jumped over the school-yard fence 
to get into School Street, when one 
of the policemen grabbed him, and 
wouldn’t let him go until he had him 
in Mr. Davis’s store. He said he 
kicked and yelled, and never got such 
a fright in his life. ’ ’ 

“ Now, Tommy, don’t you go rov- 
ing round that school-yard after dark. ’ ’ 
“ They won’t catch me there, Joe. 
Those big trees make it a pokerish place 
any time after dark, ’ ’ said Tommy. 

215 


LETTERS FROM KATE 


“They have found Sam Davis and 
Bill Noyes,” said Joe at dinner-time, 
about a week after the boys had dis- 
appeared. “ Little Jack Davis said his 
father had a letter from the captain of 
his father’s vessel, that was going to 
the West Indies. The boys hid on the 
vessel, and made their appearance as 
they were passing the Isles of Shoals. ’ ’ 
“ I have heard of it, Joe,” said Mr. 
W estburne. ‘ ‘ Mr. Davis told me that 
Mr. Noyes and he had written to Cap- 
tain Brown to make them work their 
passage, and to give them sailors’ fare. ” 
‘ ‘ They wanted a vacation, and I 
guess they will get enough of it,” 
laughed Joe. 

It was Saturday, and Joe ate his 
dinner in silence. His face was pale 
and stern. It did not look like the 
sunny, lighted face of our Joe. Tommy 
was also quiet, and glanced askance at 
216 


LETTERS FROM KATE 


Joe. Mr. Westburne noticed it, and 
after dinner he asked, — 

“What has gone wrong to-day, 
Joe?” 

“Ask Tommy, father. I cian’t tell 
you,” replied Joe, as he went to work 
in his garden. 

Mr. Westburne turned to Tommy 
for an explanation. 

“You know, father, that little Cuban 
boy whom Captain Brown brought 
from the West Indies five or six years 
ago ? Well, Dick Brown, as they call 
him, goes to our school, and he is a 
fine scholar ; but Dave Todd is always 
abusing Dick, and calling him names, 
and Dave has also influenced some of 
the other boys to torment and frighten 
Dick. Joe always defends him, and 
sometimes he and Dave almost come 
to blows. Dick doesn’t want, as he is 
afraid, to play with the boys, but he 
will follow Joe like a little dog. 

217 


LETTERS FROM KATE 


“This forenoon Joe and Bob Wells 
were playing marbles, and Diek stood 
watching them. Dave Todd and some 
other boys were playing ball, and 
the ball went over the fence into the 
street. 

“ ‘ Here, you little nigger slave, go 
and bring me that ball ! ’ shouted 
Dave. Joe told Dick not to go. 

“ ‘ Don’t you hear, you black imp ? ’ 
shouted Dave; and as Dick didn’t go, 
Dave Todd strutted up to him, and 
knocked him down. Joe jumped at 
Dave, and with his fists laid him 
sprawling upon the ground; and the 
boys shouted, ‘ That serves him right ! ’ 
and some of the boys ran for water, 
and wiped the blood from Dick’s face 
with their handkerchiefs, and stood by 
him until his nose stopped bleeding; 
but they let Dave get his own water, 
and wipe his own face. Oh father, I 
never saw such a savage face on Joe 
218 


LETTERS FROM KATE 


before ! He seemed a foot taller as he 
elinched his hands. ’ ’ 

“That is the old Revolutionary 
blood there, ’ ’ said Mr. W estburne 
smiling, as he looked at his wife. 

‘ ‘ Master Barnes eame to the window, 
and saw the boys’ noses bleeding,” 
continued Tommy ; ‘ ‘ and after recess, 
he asked Dave Todd what the fighting 
was about. Dave wouldn’t answer. 
Then he asked Dick; and after he told 
him. Master Barnes said Joe had done 
what was right, but Dave had done a 
mean, cowardly act, and he told him 
to ask Dick’s pardon; but Dick said, — 
“ ‘Oh master, I forgive him with- 
out his asking ! ’ 

“ Master Barnes then said if Dave 
Todd or any of the boys abused Dick 
after this he would give them a cow- 
hiding; and then he asked, — 

“ ‘ Is there a boy in this room who 
would forgive an injury so readily as 
219 


LETTERS FROM KATE 


Dick Brown has done ? Is there a boy 
in his class who can go above him ? 
Do not those bright, intelligent eyes, 
and every feature of Dick’s face, with 
his forgiving spirit, prove to you that he 
has in him the making of a good man ? ’ 
“Dick thanked Master Barnes for 
his good opinion of him, and said he 
would try to be worthy of it. 

“ When school was out this noon, 
many of the boys gathered around 
Dick; and Bob Wells invited him to 
to come and see his den, where he 
keeps his kites, bows and arrows, 
stuffed birds, and butterflies. Dick 
said he would if he hadn’t his chores 
and his Sunday-school lesson to learn 
for to-morrow; and, father, I believe, 
after this, Dick Brown will be the 
most popular boy in the school. ” 

“Joe,” said Mr. Westburne that 
evening, when the family had assembled 
in the sitting-room, “ I wish you to 
220 


LETTERS FROM KATE 


tell the school- boys that Dick’s father 
was a Spanish nobleman, Count de 
Guevara. Dick’s mother died soon 
after Dick, or Richardo de Guevara, 
was born; and his father died about 
five years ago, when Dick was seven 
years old. The boy inherits his father’s 
title, also a large estate in the suburbs 
of Havana ; and much of the cargo that 
Captain Brown brings from Havana 
comes from Dick’s plantation. 

“The Count de Guevara and the 
captain were warm friends ; and the 
count wanted his boy educated in this 
country, and appointed Captain Brown 
as Dick’s guardian.’’ 

“ Dick didn’t tell Master Barnes that 
Dave Todd called him a nigger slave, 
said Tommy. 

“ Has Captain Brown any children, 
father? ’’ asked Joe. 

“No, Joe; and the captain says his 
wife idolizes Dick. He is a noble little 
221 


LETTERS FROM KATE 

fellow, and I want you and Tommy 
to protect him from rude boys. 

‘‘ Is that the Spanish boy who comes 
to church with Mrs. Brown ? He is a 
very pretty boy,” said Ruth. 

“ That’s so ; and he is in my Sunday- 
school class, and all the boys in the 
class like him ; and,” continued 
Tommy, “he hasn’t got wooly hair, 
nor thick lips, and his skin is not much 
darker than Dave Todd’s. There is no 
negro blood in him. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ And if there were, he would be 
just as good as you or I, Tommy,” 
said Joe. 

“ I know that, Joe. I can love a 
negro boy just as well as a white boy. ” 

“ It is the inner goodness shining out 
in the person we love and not his out- 
ward body.” 

“That is very true, Joe, my dear 
boy,” replied Mrs. Westburne. 

“ Dave Todd says that all the people 

222 


LETTERS FROM KATE 

in the Southern States, and in Cuba, 
are either slave-holders or slaves,” said 
Tommy. “And as Dick is a boy, I 
suppose he thinks he must have been a 
slave. ’ ’ 

“Dick’s father left slaves on his 
plantation,” said Mr. Westburne, 
“and when Dick takes possession of 
the estate he may liberate them. ’ ’ 

“And I am sure he will, father. 
He says he wants to go to W est Point 
to be a soldier, ’ ’ said Tommy. 

“Oh, father! the men who made 
that ‘Address to the King in 1774’ 
were very selfish men ; for while they 
were fighting against their bondage 
with England, they were holding the 
black man in slavery of the worst kind, 
— buying and selling the man, his wife 
and children, as they did their cattle ; 
and when I saw those savage hounds 
of the slave-drivers last spring, com- 
ing through our town hunting for 
223 


LETTERS FROM KATE 


those poor slaves, as they would wild 
beasts, I felt then as I did when I 
knocked Dave Todd down. ” 

‘ ‘ Did they get the slaves ? ’ ’ asked 
Tommy. 

“ Thank God, no ! said Mr. West- 
burne. ‘‘ Some good Christian men in 
Boston helped them through to 
Canada. '' 



MRS. WESTBURNE’S LAST 
VISIT TO THE OLD 
HOME 


There is a on earth supremely blest, 
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest. 
Here woman reigns ; the mother, daugh- 
ter, wife. 

Strew loith fresh flowers the narrow ivay 
of life." 



CHAPTER XI. 

MRS. WESTBURNE’s LAST VISIT TO THE 
OLD HOME. 

I T was a lovely morning in June. 
The sun had not dried the dew on 
the flowers when Kate entered the 
dining-room with glowing cheeks, hold- 
ing the corners of her apron, which was 
full of roses and lilacs. 

“ Look, grandmamma! what beauti- 
ful half-blown roses! I found them 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


on the bushes by the old well in the 
field.” 

“Yes, dear. Your mother was fond 
of those roses. What are you going to 
do with them ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Put them in the vases in mam- 
ma’s chamber, and they will open in 
the water. 

Kate ran lightly up stairs, where we 
will follow her. 

The feather-bed on the high, cur- 
tained bedstead had been removed, 
and in its place was a hair mattress. 
The white dimity curtains and coun- 
terpane gave it a cool and restful look. 
The fireplace was decked with ever- 
green, and on the mantle- piece were 
the vases in which Kate arranged the 
roses. 

“ I hope that mamma will come 
to-day,” said she at the breakfast- 
table. “ Do you think she will, 
grandpapa ? ’ ’ 


228 


The Little Red School- House 



MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


“Your father wrote that we might 
expect them this week, so we shall 
look for them every day. 

Kate was reading by the window in 
her chamber when she heard the rum- 
bling of the stage-coach in the distance. 
She ran down stairs, and opened the 
front door ; but the driver snapped his 
whip, and bowed to the little figure 
on the piazza, that was looking so 
longingly at the old stage. 

“Mamma will not come to-day. 
The stage has just gone by,” mur- 
mured Kate, as she entered the din- 
ing-room, where her grandmother was 
sealing strawberry -jam. 

“ Your mother will not come in the 
stage. Perhaps she will come this even- 
ing, or remain in the city, and come 
in a coach to-morrow,” replied her 
grandmother. 

Kate went back to her room to finish 
the story she was reading, and sat in 
230 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


the gathering twilight, listening to the 
twittering of the birds which had built 
their nests in the apple-trees. 

It was as grandmamma had said. 
Mr. W estburne and his wife arrived in 
the city, where they remained a few 
hours. It was nearly sunset when a 
coach might have been seen on a 
stretch of country road two or three 
miles from Glenfield. Mrs. West- 
burne was reclining on her traveling- 
shawls. She was thinner and paler 
than when we last saw her. A dry, 
hacking cough disturbed her rest now 
and then. Mr. Westburne looked 
anxious. There was a sadness about 
the eyes and mouth of his pleasant 
face. 

‘‘We must be nearly there,” said 
Mrs. Westburne, rising, and looking 
out of the window. 

“Yes. There is the poor- farm under 
231 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


the hill ; it is not more than a mile 
from father’s now. ” 

The pale face lighted up, and tears 
filled her eyes, as she looked once more 
upon the scenery of her girlhood. 
How her heart throbs, as she recalls 
the buried memories of that home ! 
Nearly twenty years since, she left it 
a lovely bride, with what hope and 
love ! and how happy had been her 
wedded life ! Now she was returning 
to take a last fond look. 

Yonder is the hill, where in child- 
hood she gamboled over the rocks. 
The old well-sweep, with its moss- 
covered bucket, still stands in the field, 
like a specter of the past; and behind 
the elm-trees is the dear old home, 
where every room is holy in its asso- 
ciations; while on the piazza in the 
deepening twilight wait the loving 
father, mother, and child. They hear 
the sound of the carriage, and they 
232 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


watch. So will that dear one soon, 
oh! how soon, wait, and watch, and 
beckon for them in the spirit-land. 

Early the next morning Kate went 
softly to her mother’s chamber, and 
found her sleeping. She was startled 
when she saw the change a few months 
had made in that dear face, so thin, 
so white; and she felt for the first 
time that her mother was passing 
away. 

‘ ‘ How can I live without my 
mother?” she mourned; and, throw- 
ing herself upon her bed, she wept 
bitterly at the thought of her first 
great sorrow. 

“ I must not let mamma see that 
I’ve been crying,” said she; and after 
bathing her flushed face, she went 
down stairs to the kitchen. 

“ Oh, Nancy! please to give me the 
little basket. I want to go on the 
233 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


hill and pick some strawberries for 
mamma’s breakfast.” 

As she leaped across the brook in 
the little lane which led up the hill to 
the field where the ripe berries were 
hid in the tall grass, she saw her father 
walking near the old well, with a 
bunch of wild flowers in his hand. 

‘ ‘ Oh papa, come with me, and see 
what large, delicious strawberries I 
have kept for you and mamma ! ” 
“Why, how stout and rosy my 
little girl has grown ! ’ ’ said her father. 
“ What does grandma give you to eat 
that makes you grow so ? ” 

“Oh ! brown bread and milk, fresh 
eggs, and all the good things which 
grow on the farm. Papa, don’t you 
think the country air will make mamma 
well again ? ” 

“I hope so, my dear. To-morrow 
I go home, and you must do all you 
can to make mamma happy. I shall 
234 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


return in October, and bring the boys 
with me. ’ ’ 

It was difficult for Mrs. Westburne 
to make her parents believe that this 
would be her last visit ; but as they 
heard the dry cough, and saw the hec- 
tic flush upon the wan cheeks, they 
reluctantly gave up the hope they had 
clung to. 

“I think I will visit uncle Ralph 
to-day,” said Mrs. Westburne one 
morning after breakfast. 

“ I am going with your father to 
visit Mrs. Lane. She is failing very 
fast. Nancy,” continued she, “after 
Caleb has eaten his breakfast tell him 
to harness the horse to the carryall. 
He can leave us at Mrs. Lane’s while 
you and Kate go to see Uncle Ralph. ” 

This uncle Kate had often seen at 
church, and she loved to gaze on his 
thoughtful face, with its long white 
235 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


beard and flowing hair. She knew 
that in early life he had had some 
great sorrow. 

Uncle Ralph lived in the farm-house 
in which he was born. It was a fine 
old place, with a large lawn shaded by 
maple-trees. 

“ Is not that uncle Ralph trimming 
the rose-bushes, mamma ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, dear. Stop here, Caleb, and 
we will walk to the house. ’ ’ 

Uncle Ralph was so busy cutting 
the roses, and talking to himself, that 
he did not observe his visitors until 
Mrs. Westburne laid her hand upon 
his arm. 

“Good-morning, uncle Ralph. — 
Don’t you know me? ’’ continued she, 
seeing his bewildered look. ‘ ‘ I am 
your niece, Ruth Hale ; and this is 
my daughter Kate.” 

He gazed at them with a sad smile, 
then extended his hand. 

236 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


“ My niece ! Oh, yes, I remember. 
You were not so old as your little girl 
when I lost my Mary, my happiness, 
my all. These were the roses she 
loved so well. Come in and see her 
room. 

They entered a large, sunny room, 
to which the rich, old-fashioned furni- 
ture gave a pleasing look. 

‘ ‘ She loved this room, ’ ’ said uncle 
Ralph, as he arranged the roses in a 
large vase upon the piano. “ That is 
her work- stand, with her work, just 
as she left it thirty years ago; ” and 
he pointed to a child’s unfinished 
garment, yellow with age, which lay 
upon the stand. “Here I come and 
commune with Mary, morning, noon, 
and night. I think she sees me, be- 
cause I feel her presence. In the still 
hours of night she comes to me in 
dreams, and this is all that is left to 
me of my lost happiness; but God 
237 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


knows what is best, and what does 
it matter ? W e shall soon meet. ’ ’ 
And with a sad smile he murmured, — 

Still o’er these scenes my memory ivakeSy 
And fondly broods loith miser care. 

Time but the impression stronger makes, 
As streams their channels deeper wearT 

Then lifting his eyes to the portrait of 
a lovely girl which hung over the 
piano, he continued, — 

My Mary, dear departed shade, 

Where is thy place of blissful rest f 

Overcome with his feelings, he sank 
upon a chair, while tears filled his 
eyes. 

“You must excuse my weakness, 
Ruth ; but to-day is the anniversary 
of Mary’s death, and every year brings 
me nearer her blessed home. God has 
reconciled me to my loss, and now I 
can say, ‘ The Lord gave. He took. 

238 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


He will restore. He doeth all things 
well.’ But I will not make you sad 
any longer. Let us go and see if Mrs. 
Moulton will give us some lunch ; ” 
and he led the way to the dining-room. 

“ Mamma,” said Kate, as they rode 
home, “will you please tell me how 
uncle Ralph lost his wife ? ” 

“Not now, my child. It is a sad 
story, and I feel weary. I will tell 
you about it another day. 

Down deep in his heart, in its calm sleep, 
A dear dead love lies huried deep. 

He clasped it once in a long embrace. 
Then closed the eyes, and veiled the face ; 
And dreams of the past, like roses, still 
shed 

Their fragrance around his cherished 
dead ; 

While tears that ever are falling unseen. 
Like soft summer rain, keep its memory 
green'' 


239 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


One afternoon, late in September, 
Mrs. W estburne was resting upon the 
lounge in Kate’s chamber, while Kate 
sat at the window with an open book 
in her lap. Not a breath of air stirred 
the leaves on the old apple-tree in the 
orchard under the window, but once in 
a while the thump of an apple was 
heard falling from perfect ripeness. 

The hum of the bees and the songs 
of the birds were as merry as ever, yet 
there was a sadness in the gleams 
among the shadows of the trees. Alas ! 
every breath of wind, and every beam 
of sunshine, seemed to whisper that 
the pleasant summer days were gone. 

And yet who does not love those 
sweet, genial days of autumn, when 
Nature pours out her blessings upon 
man, and the earth has yielded her 
rich and bounteous harvest? How de- 
praved is the man who can enjoy the 
gifts of Nature, and not lift his soul 
240 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


in love and gratitude to Nature’s God! 
So thought Kate on that lovely after- 
noon. 

Suddenly the tolling of the church- 
bell came over the hills in slow and 
solemn succession, each stroke sound- 
ing fainter through the still air before 
another broke upon the silence. It 
was tolling the age and burial of Mrs. 
Lane, who had gone to her long- 
wished-for home. As the echo of the 
last stroke ended, Mrs. Westburne 
arose, and slowly repeated these beau- 
tiful lines, — 

Happy soul, thy days are ended, 

All thy mourning days helow. 

Go, hy angel guards attended. 

To the sight of Jesus goT 

Kate drew the arm-chair to the win- 
dow for her mother. 

“ Here comes grandpa from the 
burial, and uncle Ralph is with him, ’ ’ 
, 241 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


she said. “Oh, mamma! you have 
never told me about uncle Ralph’s 
sorrow. ’ ’ 

“Then listen, my child, and learn 
how uncertain are earthly joys. It 
was thirty years ago last month since 
uncle Ralph met with an affliction 
which shadowed his life, but the blessed 
promises of Christ and the hope of 
meeting his loved one again was the 
balm which softened his grief. That 
portrait which hangs in your grand- 
father’s study looks as my uncle Ralph 
Foster did when I first saw him. He 
is my mother’s only brother ; and it 
was in this house that he met my aunt 
Mary, your grandfather’s youngest 
sister, a beautiful girl of eighteen years. 
Uncle Ralph loved her, and she re- 
turned his love with all the fervor of 
her pure heart; but Mary’s father 
would not consent to the marriage un- 
til she was twenty-one. Uncle Ralph 
242 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


was graduated, and became the doctor 
of Glenfield, contenting himself with 
an occasional visit to Mary’s home in 
the city. In the meantime my grand- 
father Foster died, and left the old 
place to uncle Ralph. 

“ It was a bright morning in June. 
The church was trimmed with flowers, 
and garlands of evergreen. Y our grand- 
father married them; and the church- 
bell rang merrily, while the happy faces 
of the villagers added to their joy. 
How delighted your Aunt Martha and 
I were, when we went to see the house 
when it was finished for the reception 
of the bride. I shall never forget the 
look of love and pride which uncle 
Ralph gave her, as with girlish glee 
she flitted from room to room. ‘ How 
much happiness I expect to enjoy in 
this beautiful home, dear Ralph,’ said 
she, as the stage drove to the door 
which was to take them for a short trip 
243 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


to the White Mountains, the tops of 
which you see yonder. 

‘ ‘ They had been married a little 
more than a year, and aunt Mary had 
endeared herself to uncle Ralph’s pa- 
tients. She was like a ray of light in 
a sick-room. One afternoon a message 
came for uncle Ralph to go to Mrs. 
Bruce’s, which was about two miles 
from the village. ‘ I wish, Mary, ’ 
said he, ‘ that you would go with me. 
Your cheerfulness will do more for her 
than all my medicine. She has been 
nervous and despondent since her hus- 
band’s death. Come, my little sun- 
beam,’ continued he, caressing her. 

‘ You can cure this patient better than 
I can. ’ Aunt Mary folded the little 
garment she was making, — the one 
you saw in her room on the work-stand. 
Ah, my child! how little we know 
what a day may bring forth ! As 
they were returning home, aunt Mary 
244 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


persuaded her husband to drive through 
the valley. The new railroad had just 
been opened ; and, as they were about 
to cross the track, the shrill whistle of 
the engine was heard, and in an instant 
the train, which was hidden behind 
a hill, came around the bend at full 
speed. The horse became frightened 
at this strange object, and aunt Mary 
was thrown violently from the carriage. 
Her head struck upon a rock, killing 
her instantly. Uncle Ralph was car- 
ried home insensible. As he regained 
his strength, it was pitiful to see him 
wander about the house. He came to 
stay with us until his sorrow was 
softened. Gradually my poor father, 
who keenly felt his sister’s violent 
death, led his thoughts to that world 
where parting is unknown. 

‘ ‘ How often, ’ ’ continued Mrs. W est- 
burne, “while sitting in this room, I 
have heard my dear father in his study 
245 


MRS. WESTBURNE’S VISIT 


praying with uncle Ralph for resigna- 
tion to bear their heavy grief. And 
now, my child, you know what uncle 
Ralph has suffered. 

“Dear, good uncle Ralph! And, 
mamma, he has never buried his love. 
He holds her yet in his heart. 

“ Well, mamma, if I am so fortu- 
nate, when I am a woman, as to have 
some one to love me, like uncle Ralph, 
I shall adore him ; and if God takes me 
first, I will be his guardian angel. ’ ’ 

“Ah, Kate, you know not what will 
be your lot when you arrive to woman- 
hood. But always keep the love of 
God in your heart; and if evil days 
come, look beyond them, and cling to 
your Savior’s love, which will never 
leave you,’’ replied Mrs. Westburne. 


THE MOTHER’S DEATH 


Like strains of music on the ear 
Thy name shall fall uidon and cheer 
My soul, allaying every fear, — my 
mother. 

And when ive meet on yon hlest shore. 
With those dear ones ivhdve gone before. 
How sweet 'twill be to part no more, — 
my .mother." 



CHAPTER XII 


THE mother’s death 

Y our father and the boys will 
be here next week,” said 
Mrs. Westburne, as she en- 
tered the sitting-room with an open 
letter in her hand, one beautiful after- 
noon in Oetober. 

‘‘ Oh, I shall be so glad to see them! 
Uncle Ralph has promised that we 
shall go nutting in his woods. He 
says that the frost is opening the 
burs,” said Kate. 


THE MOTHER’S DEATH 


“Here is a letter for you, Kate,” 
continued Mrs. Westburne. 

“It is from Joe. I will read it, 
mamma. 

“Dear Kate, — We are coming 
with papa. Tommy and I. I have 
done as I have promised, — behaved 
like a saint, and I almost feel like one ; 
but I don’t want to be too good, be- 
cause I’ve heard that the good die 
young. I guess father was awful 
proud of me examination day. Now 
I go to Master Noyes’s academy, to 
prepare for West Point. You know 
I’ve always wanted to be a soldier. 
I guess your chums will be glad to see 
you. I’m almost afraid to go past 
your school-house, because they hold 
on to my coat-tails, and ask so many 
questions. I bet Tommy and I have 
missed you more than they have. It 
has been dull enough without mamma 
250 


THE MOTHER’S DEATH 


and you. Father told Ruth this morn- 
ing that he was anxious to have you 
at home again, so you may look for us 
Thursday. I won’t write any more, 
because I shall see you soon. Your 
affectionate Joe and Tommy.” 

It was almost sunset when the stage 
stopped at the parsonage, and Mr. 
Westburne, with Joe and Tommy, 
alighted. 

“ You won’t go away again and 
stay so long, will you, Kate ? ” asked 
Tommy after the greeting was over. 
“We haven’t had any fun since you 
have been gone, have we, Joe ? ” 

“ No ; but I’ve studied more than 
I ever did before, and I am better for 
it. I’m almost fifteen, and next year 
uncle George says I can go to West 
Point.” 

The next day brought Lucy, Mattie, 
and uncle Ralph. 


251 


I 



The Ancient 


Pump and the Ancient 
Town- crier 


THE MOTHER’S DEATH 


‘ ‘ There was a heavy frost last night, 
and the chestnuts are dropping from 
the burs. I will send for the children 
to-morrow, and bring them home when 
I am tired of them, ’ ’ said uncle Ralph, 
preparing to go. 

The next morning the children were 
in high glee with the prospect of visit- 
ing uncle Ralph. Mattie stood at the 
window, watching. 

“ Here comes a two-seated wagon for 
us, with Ben Moulton,” shouted Mat- 
tie, as the wagon whirled by the win- 
dow and drew up at the garden-door. 

‘ ‘ Are the youngsters ready ? ’ ’ asked 
Ben with a smiling face, as he opened 
the sitting-room door, where Kate and 
her cousins were putting on their wraps. 

Thej^ were soon speeding over the 
road. Uncle Ralph climbed the trees 
with Joe and Tommy, and shook down 
the ripe nuts. He joined in their 
sports ; and in their voices he seemed 
253 


THE MOTHER’S DEATH 


to hear the voices of his boyhood, and 
to forget his sorrow. 

“ What are all those red-roofed 
houses on the hill in the distance, 
uncle ? ’ ’ asked Kate, as she stood at 
the window after dinner the next day. 

“That is the Shaker village. After 
Ben has eaten his dinner and harnessed 
the horse we will make them a visit. ’ ’ 

They were slowly passing a dilapi- 
dated school-house. The long grass 
had hidden the steps and path where 
so many little feet had once trodden. 

“ There is where your grandmother 
and I were taught to read and write. 
It seems but yesterday when 1 climbed 
those trees, and sailed my tiny boat in 
yonder brook. 

“ Why don’t they repair the old 
school-house, and send the children 
there ? ’’ asked Kate. 

“There are no children to send. 
The walls of that deserted farm-house 
254 


THE MOTHER’S DEATH 

which we just passed, once rang with 
the merry voices of five children, and 
many happy days I have spent with 
them ; but now they are scattered far 
and wide. The city life has more 
attraction, and the old homes are for- 
saken. ’ ’ 

As they drew near the village they 
met a number of Shakers going to their 
work. Elder Moore, the head of the 
community, was a warm friend of 
uncle Ralph’s, and he gave the young 
people a hearty welcome. One of the 
teachers took them to the schoolroom, 
where they heard the children recite 
and sing. They visited the little fancy 
shop, where many pretty articles were 
seen, that were made by the sisters, 
and sold to the visitors. 

Uncle Ralph bought each of the 
children a little fancy basket filled with 
preserved ginger and flagroot ; and, as 
Kate was admiring the little Shaker 
255 


THE MOTHER’S DEATH 


bonnets, he bought one for each of the 
girls ; also broad- brimmed straw hats 
for Joe and Tommy. 

“They will do to shade our faces 
from the sun in the summer,” said 
Kate, as they thanked uncle Ralph for 
the presents. 

Then they went to the mill, and 
saw the great wheel grinding the corn ; 
and the sisters took them to the gar- 
den, and gave each of them a beautiful 
bouquet of autumn flowers. 

It was dark when they reached 
home, where a warm supper was await- 
ing them. 

The next day Ben put a large 
basket of chestnuts into the wagon, 
and uncle Ralph took them to the 
parsonage. 

‘ ‘ This visit to uncle Ralph is another 
sunny spot in my childhood to remem- 
ber, mamma,” said Kate that night 
as she went to her bed-chamber. 

256 


THE MOTHER’S DEATH 


The fortnight was almost gone. 
Saturday night came, and Joe said it 
seemed but yesterday since they had 
left home. 

The sun was shining brightly among 
the trees in the brown October woods 
as they rode to church on that lovely 
Sabbath day. Many an anxious eye 
was turned toward the pastor’s pew, 
for Mrs. Westburne had many dear 
friends in her native village. Not a 
seat was vacant. The people seemed 
to feel that it was the last time that 
their pastor’s family would all meet 
together. The sermon which followed 
the hymn was again from Revelation : 
‘ ‘ And God shall wipe all tears from 
their eyes. ” He spoke of ‘‘ the celes- 
tial city with its walls of gold and its 
gates of pearl ; the river of water of 
life, and the trees which border its 
margin ; the inhabitants, in their robes 
of white. Once we reach that bound- 
257 


THE MOTHER’S DEATH 


less shore, we are safe, resting in the 
bosom of God. ’ ’ 

Uncle Nathan, aunt Martha, and the 
children stayed at the parsonage until 
the next day, when the Westburnes 
were to return to their home. 

We will pass over the parting of 
Mrs. Westburne with her parents and 
sister. It was sunset when they reached 
Bellville. Mrs. Westburne failed rap- 
idly as the autumn days passed. 

It was Sunday evening, the week 
before Christmas. Kate was arranging 
the little round table for her mother’s 
tea; and as she toasted the bread over 
the glowing coals, Mrs. Westburne 
looked fondly but sadly on the bright, 
rosy face. After Bridget had removed 
the tea-tray, Kate brought her little 
chair to her mother’s side, and read 
her evening chapter. 

“ Kate, ” said her mother, “ next Sat- 
258 



The Doctor Calls 




THE MOTHER’S DEATH 


urday will be Christmas evening, and I 
have felt all day that this will be my 
last Sabbath on earth. Look at those 
beautiful sunset clouds and the bright 
evening star. Before another Sabbath 
evening my soul may be beyond those 
stars. When you see my wasted form 
cold and still,” continued Mrs. West- 
burne, drawing the little head upon 
her lap, “remember my soul has left 
that frail earthly casket to live for- 
ever in the sunlight of our Heavenly 
Father’s love.” 

Kate tried to restrain her tears. 
She was learning to suffer and be 
strong. 

Little preparation was made for 
Christmas. Saturday afternoon Mrs. 
Westburne called her family around 
her bedside. She bade them “Good- 
bye,” and lay looking at their sad, 
tearful faces. ‘ ‘ Dear Edward ! dear 
children ! You will never forget me. 

260 


THE MOTHER’S DEATH 


I will watch for you in the spirit- 
land.” 

It was early dawn, and yet that dear 
mother lingered as though she could 
not leave her loved ones. 

‘ ‘ Do you know what day this is ? ” 
asked Mr. Churchill. 

With a heavenly smile she an- 
swered, — 

Thy earthly Sabbath, Lord, I love, 

But there s a purer rest above. 

Oh ! I shall soon that rest obtain, 

From sin, from sorrow, and from pain'' 

Mr. Westburne put his arm under 
her pillow, and supported her head. 
‘‘Going home,” she whispered, with 
an angelic smile which left its impress 
upon the face long after the pure soul 
had left the body. As the weeping 
family stood looking at the lovely face, 
smiling even in death, Mr. Churchill 
broke the silence. 

261 


THE MOTHER’S DEATH 


‘ ‘ Oh blessed Lord ! Let us die the 
death of the rightous, and let our last 
end be like hers. ’ ’ 

The winter months seemed long and 
dreary to the afflicted family. Nurse 
Ashby’s motherly care and cheerful 
words did much to lighten their sorrow. 

Mr. Westburne wished his wife’s 
chamber to remain as when she was 
with them. One Sunday afternoon 
Kate timidly opened the door of her 
mother’s room, and saw her father 
sitting in her mother’s arm-chair, with 
his head bowed upon his hands ; and, 
going softly to his side, she put her 
arms around his neck. 

‘ ‘ Dear papa, you have me, and the 
rest of us. Mamma told us not to 
mourn for her. 

“ I know it, darling. Our loss is 
her gain ; ’ ’ and he folded his little 
comforter in his arms, as she told him 
262 


THE MOTHER’S DEATH 


of the conversation with her mother on 
that last Sabbath evening ; and as the 
twilight deepened, they felt that her 
spirit was hovering over them, and 
their hearts were lighter as they joined 
the family circle. 

It was toward the end of January 
when Ruth received the following 
letter from Arthur Morse. 

Princeton, Sabbath Eve. 

Dear Ruth, — You have experi- 
enced your first great sorrow, the loss 
of the nearest and dearest earthly 
friend. Who can fill a mother’s place ? 
It is the first link in that chain which 
will be constantly drawing your 
thoughts and affections to God, who, 
in lessening your ties on earth, is in- 
creasing your treasures in heaven. 

In a few months I shall have spent 
my last Sunday here. How short the 
263 


THE MOTHER’S DEATH 


time seems since I wrote you the first 
letter from Princeton ! I long to be 
about my Master’s work. Pray for 
me, dear one, that my life may be pro- 
longed, and grace given me to bring 
many souls to Jesus ; but look beyond, 
dearest. Our Heavenly Father knows 
what is best for us. 

The winter months had passed, and 
the children were looking forward with 
yearning hearts for the warm spring 
days when they could plant the flower- 
bushes upon their mother’s grave. It 
was a lovely morning the first of May 
when they went to the cemetery. 

“Ruth, let Sam plant my white 
rose-bush at the head of mother’s 
grave,” pleaded Kate. 

“ Mother loved white flowers best,” 
said Tommy, with tears in his eyes, as 
he watched Joe planting lilies of the 
valley on the mound. 

1)64 



The Mistress of the Household in 

Marble 



THE MOTHER’S DEATH 


“White is the emblem of purity. 
We will have none but white, sweet- 
scented flowers on dear mamma’s 
grave,” sighed Joe. 

‘ ‘ Put my Easter lily and these white 
daisies here, Sam, ’ ’ said Alice. 

“ What are those flowers, Ruth ? ” 
asked Kate. 

“ Snow-drops. We must keep flow- 
ers blooming upon mother’s grave until 
the snow comes, ’ ’ replied Ruth. 

They kept fresh flowers all summer 
in the urn at the head of the grave, and 
many tears were shed and prayers 
breathed at that hallowed spot. 


ARTHUR MORSE AND RUTH 
WESTBURNE’S DEATH 


“ She gathered the flowers^ and pressed 
their leaves, 

And folded her hands in silent prayer ; 

That the reaper Death, as he seeks his 
sheaves. 

Might hasten the hour of those waiting 
there A 



CHAPTER XI IT. 

ARTHUR MORSE AND RUTH A\^EST- 

burne’s death. 

A rthur morse had bidden 

farewell to the Seminary, carry- 
ing with him testimonials of his 
piety and scholarship. After preaching 
in several vacant pulpits in the vicinity 
of Oldbury, he accepted a call to one 
where his labors had been blessed. 

It was Ruth’s twenty-first birthday, 
and she was conversing with Arthur. 


ARTHUR MORSE 


“ If God permits, on New Year’s 
Day we will commence our new life 
and New Year together, darling?” 
pleaded Arthur. 

“Yes,” responded Ruth. “ By that 
time you will be stronger, and more 
acquainted with your people, and you 
will need my help. ” 

He drew the dear head to his breast, 
and they talked of the time when they 
should recount their hopes and fears 
together. 

Arthur was gaining upon the affec- 
tions and confidence of his people, and 
had entered fully upon his pastoral and 
pulpit labors ; but the task was an 
arduous one for his delicate system. 
As the autumn leaves rustled on the 
ground, he felt that his earthly days 
were numbered ; but his failing strength 
led him to give himself to his Master’s 
work with redoubled energy. Toward 
the middle of December he was almost 
too feeble to preach. 

270 


ARTHUR MORSE 


It was a sad Sunday to his people, 
who had learned to love him so well, 
and they listened to his sermon with 
tearful eyes. Fervent were their pray- 
ers that he might be spared to them; 
but as they looked upon his fragile 
form, they felt that it would soon 
molder in the grave ; and the eye 
that beamed upon them with affection 
must as quickly disappear. 

New Year’s morning found Arthur 
Morse upon his dying bed; and Ruth 
Westburne sat by his bedside, with 
her face buried in the pillow. 

‘‘Ruth, I want to talk with you. 
Let me see your face, darling.” She 
raised her head, and the tears fell fast. 

“We expected to begin our lives 
together on this New Year’s Day, but 
God has ordered it otherwise. Dear 
one, you will have another treasure in 
heaven; another link in the chain to 
271 


ARTHUR MORSE 


draw you there ; and if I am per- 
mitted, Ruth, I will be your guardian 
angel there, as you have been mine 
here. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Morse entered the room with 
some flowers which had been sent to 
him. He took them, and, smiling, 
said, — 

‘ ‘ These are the last earthly flowers 
I shall ever see. 1 shall soon enter 
that beautiful world where flowers 
never fade ; and, dear Ruth, I know 
that you will keep my grave fresh with 
sweet flowers. You will pray by my 
grave, and think of him whose short 
life you have made so happy ; and 1 
will see you from my blessed home. ’ ’ 

^ Oh glorious hour, oh hlest abode ! 

I shall be near, and like my God, ’ ’ ’ 

It seemed as if his face shone with a 
glory from heaven. His last prayer 
was for his church and his loved ones, 
272 


ARTHUR MORSE 


and in the waning of the New Year’s 
Day he sweetly breathed out his soul 
on Jesus’ breast. 

It was a great blow to all the cher- 
ished hopes and joys of Ruth West- 
burne’s life ; but she bowed to the will 
of God, and felt that the parting would 
not be long. 

At Arthur’s request, Ruth had re- 
mained with him during his illness; 
and now Mrs. Morse and Dora were 
loath to have her leave them, but her 
pale face showed them that she needed 
a change. 

It was a bright winter afternoon. A 
cheerful fire was glowing in the grate 
in the sitting-room when Ruth entered 
with Alice. Good Nurse Ashby re- 
ceived her with open arms, and upon 
that motherly breast Ruth opened the 
flood-gates of her heart. 

‘ ‘ There, there, darling ! a good cry 
has relieved your poor heart. Now 
273 


ARTHUR MORSE 


try to sleep a little while upon the 
lounge before the children come from 
school; ” and Nurse folded the warm 
shawl over the weary one, and Ruth 
slept. Silently Kate and her brothers 
entered the room. Ruth was still 
sleeping, and with tearful eyes they 
pressed their lips to her pale brow. 

In the deep and sensitive nature of 
Ruth Westburne the death of Arthur 
Morse had taken a strong hold. He 
had been her ideal of a perfect man, 
and the tendrils of her whole being 
had clung to him as the ivy clings to 
the oak. 

“I will not be selfish. I must try 
to forget my sorrow, and live to make 
those happy who are left to me. T 
have still many to love. Is it not 
so, father?” asked Ruth, a few days 
after her return home. 

Her father folded her in his arms as 
he repeated that beautiful verse, — 

274 


ARTHUR MORSE 


‘ So shall our moments smoothly run, 

While here loe ivait oar Father s will. 

Our rising and our setting sun 

Rolls gently up and down the hill.' ” 

Although her poor, tired heart was 
suffering, Ruth went to her daily 
duties with a gentle smile. She had 
tasted life’s bitter sorrow, and knew 
how to comfort those w^ho mourned ; 
but in the silence of night she would 
grieve for the lost one, and pray for 
grace and strength. 

Spring had come again. The trees 
were putting out their leaves, and the 
earth was clothing itself in its robe of 
green. Ruth went to Arthur’s grave; 
and, as she laid the lilies of the valley 
upon the mound, she thought of his 
loving request, “ You will keep my 
grave fresh with sweet flowers ; you 
will pray there,” and she leaned her 
275 


ARTHUR MORSE 


head against the monument, and wept. 
She heard footsteps approaehing, and, 
looking up, she saw Mrs. Morse and 
Dora, who mingled their tears with 
hers. 

It was late one sunny afternoon in 
June when Mr. Westburne entered the 
sitting-room. Ruth was reclining upon 
the lounge. Her thin, pale face caused 
him much uneasiness, and to see her 
thus waste away was more than his 
heart could bear. He bowed his head 
upon his breast. While thus lost in 
sad thoughts, Ruth opened her eyes. 
She arose, and, lifting her father’s 
head, kissed him, and, putting her arm 
within his, said, “Let us walk in 
the garden, father ; ” and by cheering 
conversation she sought to divert his 
mind from sad thoughts. As they 
entered the house a letter from Aunt 
Martha lay upon the table, inviting 
Ruth and Alice to pass the summer 
270 


ARTHUR MORSE 


at Glenfield. “ The change would 
be a benefit to Ruth,” aunt Martha 
wrote. 

The family were sitting in the twi- 
light the day before the two sisters 
were to go to the country village. 

“Joe,” said Mr. Westburne, “ I had 
an excellent account of you to-day from 
Master Brooks. He says you and Dick 
de Guevara are making great progress 
in your studies. How would you like 
to enter W est Point in the winter ? 
There will be vacancies then for you 
and for Dick. 

“ Oh, father, I should like to go, 
especially if Dick goes also. I shall 
try to be brave. That is the principal 
trait in a soldier’s life. ” 

“ Yes, ” replied Mr. W estburne. 
“ In learning to fight the battles of life^ 
we must be valiant and steadfast in 
every good cause, and we shall be vic- 
torious in the end. 



t 



ARTHUR MORSE 


It was a pleasant afternoon in Octo- 
ber. Ruth, Alice, and the children 
carried a basket of flowers, the last of 
the season, to decorate the graves. 

“This time next month, perhaps 
mamma’s grave will again be hidden 
under the snow,’’ said Kate, in a sad 
voice. 

“ It will not matter. Mother is not 
there, Kate, ’ ’ replied Alice. 

“ I wonder if mamma can see us 
here ? ’’ asked Tommy, looking up at 
the sky. 

“She is a saint, a spirit, now. 
Tommy. Perhaps she can see us if we 
don’t see her,’’ replied Joe. 

“ I hope they will lay my body in 
this corner. It will be almost by the 
side of Arthur,’’ murmured Ruth, as 
she laid the flowers and evergreen upon 
his grave. 

As the winter approached, Ruth be- 
came subject to fainting; and Mr. 

279 


ARTHUR MORSE 


Westburne had decided to take her 
to Florida for the winter, when he 
went to West Point with Joe and 
Dick. 

One night Ruth became restless ; 
but toward morning she gave a deep 
sigh, and became quiet. 

‘ ‘ She has gone to sleep at last, ’ ’ 
thought Alice, who slept so late the 
next morning that Nurse Ashby en- 
tered their chamber to awaken them. 

“ Ruth did not go to sleep until 
nearly morning, and that is why I have 
overslept,” whispered Alice, dressing 
herself quickly. 

Nurse bent over Ruth, who seemed 
to be peacefully sleeping. A smile 
rested upon the lovely face. But Ruth 
W estburne was asleep in Jesus, never 
again to wake and weep. 

Again the afflicted family bowed to 
the will of God. They laid her in the 
corner, near the grave of him she loved 
280 


ARTHUR MORSE 


so well, and then returned to their 
saddened home. 

‘ ‘ Dear Ruth ! How I shall miss 
her ! Everything that I love dies ! ’ ’ 
sobbed Kate that evening, as she sat on 
a foot- stool with her head in Nurse’s lap. 

“ But we shall see them again, 
where parting and death can never 
come. Does not God restore to us 
the beautiful flowers and singing-birds 
every summer ? and when He takes 
them frorn us for awhile, we appreciate 
and love them more as we think of the 
time when we shall see them again. 
And so with our loved ones, — they 
have gone before us to draw us to 
them,” said Nurse. 

‘ ‘ Do you think Ruth has found 
mother and Arthur yet, father? ” asked 
Joe. 

‘ ‘ I hope so, my dear boy. When 
earth’s sorrows are over, then we shall 
all meet to part no more. 

281 


ARTHUR MORSE 


“Perhaps Jesus told mamma and 
Arthur that Ruth was coming, and 
they went to meet her at the Golden 
Gate,” said Tommy. 

And thus they talked of that beauti- 
ful world, and the loved ones awaiting 
them there, “when the day breaks 
and the shadows flee away. ’ ’ 




JOE AND DICK GO TO 
THE WAR 


My voice is still for war, 

Gods ! Can a senate long dehate 
Which of the two to choose, slavery 
death f ” 



CHAPTER XIV. 

JOE AND DICK GO TO THE WAR. 

M ore than four years have 
passed since we visited the 
Westburne family. Kate, 
who had been graduated by the Acade- 
my at B , was spending the winter 

in Rio Janeiro, Brazil, with Hilda 
Sousa, her old room-mate. Tommy 
had finished his course at Gove’s Col- 
lege, and contemplated entering his 


JOE AND DICK GO TO WAR 


father’s business. Joe and Dick de 
Guevara would end their studies at 
West Point in a few weeks. During 
those four years strange rumors of war 
were echoed abroad. Men were going 
to and fro. What was the cause of 
this commotion? ’Twas slavery, the 
worst crime man perpetrates against 
his fellow- creature. For nearly a hun- 
dred years the nation had allowed the 
slaveholder to degrade the negro, but 
during most of those years the aboli- 
tion of slavery had been agitated by 
brave and righteous men ; and now 
God was listening to the cry of His 
children. ‘ ‘ Shall I not visit them 
for these things ? saith the Lord : 
shall not my soul be avenged on 
such a nation as this?” (Jeremiah 
ix. 9.) 

Spring had come, and Kate had 
returned from Brazil, with glowing 
286 


JOE AND DICK GO TO WAR 


accounts of that country and its peo- 
ple. 

“And now, Kate,” said Mr. West- 
burne one evening, after she had 
described the climate, the fruit, the 
birds and flowers, “tell us about the 
people, and what you see to admire 
in them more than in the people of 
your own country. ’ ’ 

“ They are not so selfish as we are, 
father. Mr. Sousa, Hilda’s father, has 
a large coffee plantation a few miles 
from the city; and three years ago he 
liberated all his slaves, but they would 
not leave him. He pays them wages 
for their labor every Saturday after- 
noon, and they live, as they always 
have, in their cabins on the plantation. 
Mr. Sousa says they accomplish more 
work than when they were slaves. He 
has built a schoolhouse, where the 
negro children are taught to read, 
write, and cipher. The emperor, Dom 
287 


JOE AND DICK GO TO WAR 


Pedro, gave Mr. Sousa the title of 
Baron ; but he does not use it. He 
told the emperor that he had only 
done his duty ; and five years ago Mr. 
Sousa’s mother freed all her slaves. 
Many of the Brazilians want to abolish 
slavery from the country, and when 
they gain over the majority it will be 
done; besides, they do not seem to 
crave for wealth and power so much as 
the people of our country. When they 
make a competency, they retire to enjoy 
it, leaving their business to their sons. 
And, father, Mr. Sousa gives a feast in 
a grove in his beautiful garden once a 
week to all the poor people who live 
in his district ; and there are many other 
rich men, in different parts of the city, 
who do the same thing. So you see, 
the poor enjoy a feast as well as the 
rich. I asked Mr. Sousa why he did 
this act of kindness ; and he said, when 
he saw the grateful, happy faces of 
288 


JOE AND DICK GO TO WAR 


those people, that he felt he enjoyed 
the feast more than they did, for he 
understood the full meaning of our 
Saviour’s words, ‘ It is more blessed 
to give than to receive. ’ ’ ’ 

“ What language do they speak, 
Kate ? ” asked Tommy. 

‘ ‘ The Portuguese language ; but 
many of them speak the English and 
French languages also. And, father, 
the Portuguese are a very generous peo- 
ple ; for when the Brazilians were under 
the rule of Portugal, they wanted to 
become independent, and have an em- 
peror, and the Portuguese nation gave 
them their freedom without a war. ’ ’ 

“ I bet this country wouldn’t have 
given up such a rich country as Brazil 
without some hard kicking,” said 
Tommy. 

One afternoon in June Mr. West- 
burne came home with a letter from 
289 


JOE AND DICK GO TO WAR 


Joe, saying that Dick and he had re- 
ceived their commissions in the army, 
and were coming to Oldbury. 

The war-cloud had burst, and Fort 
Sumter had received its baptism of 
shot and shell. Men looked aghast at 
each other. Business was paralyzed. 
Dismay and terror filled every heart. 
Joe and Dick arrived in their uniforms, 
looking little like the two merry school- 
boys of former days. 

“ I hardly realize yet, Joe, that you 
are a soldier, going to a terrible civil 
war, ’ ’ said Mr. W estburne in a sad 
voice. 

“ It seems like a dream to me also, 
father ; but Dick and I will take care 
of each other. Duty calls, and we 
must go. I believe, before this war is 
over, every slave in the United States 
will be a free man. Oh, this war 
never would have happened if our 
Colonial fathers, in securing their own 
290 


JOE AND DICK GO TO WAR 


freedom, had freed, too, the black- 
man in bondage at that time. It 
was our ancestors’ selfishness that has 
brought this curse upon us, an inheri- 
tance which I am sure will be worse 
than any hell ! ” 

“ What you say is very true, my 
boy; but slaveiy was not so bad then 
as it is to-day. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ It was an evil then, and should not 
have been allowed to grow and become 
the curse it is to-day,” said Joe. 

‘ ‘ And think, Mr. W estburne, ’ ’ said 
Dick, “of all the innocent men, 
women, and children who will have to 
suffer by this fearful war. As soon 
as I come in possession of my estate in 
Havana I shall free every slave; and I 
pray God will spare my life to do it,” 
continued he in a firm voice. “ Surely 
Abraham Lincoln was chosen by God 
to liberate the slaves, and I cannot 
but think he will excel every President 
291 


JOE AND DICK GO TO WAR 


that our nation has had ; and that clause 
in the Declaration of Independence, 
‘ W e hold these truths to be self-evi- 
dent, that all men are created equal, 
that they are endowed by their Creator 
with certain unalienable rights, that 
among these are life, liberty, and the 
pursuit of happiness, ’ will be no longer 
a miserable fraud, and a reproach upon 
this nation. ’ ’ 

The family were assembled in the 
sitting-room a few days before Joe and 
Dick’s departure for the war, when 
Alice entered the room with Dora 
Morse. 

“ Father,” said Alice, running up to 
him, and putting her arms around his 
neck, ‘ ‘ Dora is going to the war as a 
nurse, and she says that there is a 
place for me ; and I will not lose sight 
of Joe and Dick. You will let me go, 
won’t you, father? ” she pleaded. 

292 


JOE AND DICK GO TO WAR 


It was some time before Mr. West- 
burne could speak, and then in an 
agitated voice he asked, — 

“ Alice, do you think you are strong 
enough to see the dreadful suffering 
after a battle ? ” 

“Yes, father, I am sure I am; and 
if I am not, God will help me; and. 
father, we have felt and seen suffering 
at home. If I can relieve and comfort 
the poor soldier, I shall not have lived 
in vain. I think, if mother and Ruth 
were here, they would say I am right 
in wanting to go. 

“ Mother ' and father said that if 
Arthur were here he would go as a 
chaplain ; and I am going in his stead 
as a nurse. We shall be together,” 
urged Dora. 

“You can go, Alice, and witness 
the evils and sufferings of men, ’ ’ said 
Mr. Westburne. 

“Alice and Dora will be our angels, 
293 


JOE AND DICK GO TO WAR 


and bind up our wounds, Dick,” said 
Joe in a cheerful voice. 

‘ ‘ And Tommy and I will send you 
boxes of goodies and clothes. You 
will write, Alice, and tell us where to 
send them,” said Kate. 

“ I may be drafted, and have to go 
also, Kate,” said Tommy. 

In a few weeks our young officers and 
nurses were at their posts of duty. Joe 
and Dick soon found that a soldier’s 
life was no longer a dream, but a reality. 
They took part in many skirmishes. 
They passed through the dreadful bat- 
tle of Gettysburg unscarred. F our long, 
painful years had nearly passed and 
the cruel war was drawing to a close. 
It was after the emancipation of the 
slaves, and in the last great battle be- 
fore Richmond, that our brave Joe fell. 

Joe was in front of his soldiers when 
he received his mortal wound. Diek 
rushed to his side. 

294 


JOE AND DICK GO TO WAR 


“ It is only a flesh wound, ” said Joe, 
as he staggered and fell into Dick’s 
arms. “ What is all that shouting 
for ? ” he asked. 

“Lee has retreated! Look, Joe! 
the Stars and Stripes are waving over 
the fortifications of Richmond ! ’ ’ 
shouted Dick. 

Joe raised his head, and smiled upon 
the flag. 

“Thank God that I have lived to 
see this day!” he exclaimed. “The 
Union is saved, and the slaves are free. 
Now I can die contented.” 

Joe was taken to the hospital; and 
every effort was made by Dr. Bentley, 
the surgeon, to remove the ball, and 
at last he succeeded; but the wound 
would not heal, and poor Joe grew 
weaker and weaker. 

‘ ‘ Alice, I want to see father and 
Tommy. Can’t I be taken home? ” 
pleaded Joe. 


295 







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An Oldbury Saint Crispian 


/ 







JOE AND DICK GO TO WAR 


A telegram was sent to Mr. West- 
burne, who arrived in a few days, 
and poor Joe was carried home to 
die. 

“Father,” said Joe, the day before 
he died, ‘ ‘ from my boyhood I always 
hated fighting ; but I knew that the 
bickerings between the North and 
South would some time bring a terri- 
ble war upon the nation, and that it 
would end in freeing the slaves. That 
was why I wanted to go to W est 
Point. I thought, if I were called 
to fight for my country, I should be 
better prepared; and, father, when I 
go to the Saviour, He will send His 
Spirit to comfort you; and Dick will 
take my place. He promised me, when 
we were in the army, that he would 
if 1 fell; and, to Tommy, Dick will 
be a noble brother. We shall all meet 
again, never more to part. 

“Oh, Joe, I cannot let you go!” 

297 


JOE AND DICK GO TO WAR 


sobbed Tommy, with his head upon 
Joe’s pillow. 

“Father,” said Joe the next morn- 
ing, ‘ ‘ I saw mother and Ruth in my 
sleep last night. I am sure that Jesus 
will send me to them to-day.” In 
the twilight hour the brave and gal- 
lant Joe left his loved ones with a 
smile, as if he were going on a pleas- 
ant journey ; and they laid his body by 
the side of his mother and Ruth. 

Joe had been the life of that home. 
His sunny nature had filled their hearts 
with glee; alas how they missed him, 
as they assembled again in the sitting- 
room! Tommy was silently weeping. 

“Dear Joe, my noble-hearted brother, 
playmate of my girlhood ! I shall never 
see you again on earth 1 ’ ’ sobbed 
Kate. 

“We shall see him when the Saviour 
calls for us,” said Alice, wiping the 
tears from her eyes. 

298 


JOE AND DICK GO TO WAR 


Dick de Guavara was walking up 
and down the long sitting-room. He 
had not shed a tear since Joe’s death. 
Suddenly he threw himself upon a 
chair, and cried, — 

‘ ‘ I loved him also. He was m}^ 
playmate, my companion, and the best 
friend 1 ever had. You have each 
other to love. I have no one now. 
Oh Joe, my heart is in your grave! ” 
And tears flowed from Dick’s eyes. 

The love that Joe and Dick had for 
each other opened Kate’s eyes, and 
turned her thoughts into another 
channel. 

“We all love you, Dick. You shall 
be our brother. Joe left you his 
place,’’ said Kate, wiping the tears 
from his eyes. 

“Yes, Dick, I feel better now I 
have you in Joe’s place, and I will 
love you for Joe,” said Tommy, put- 
ting his arms around his neck. 

299 


JOE AND DICK GO TO WAR 


“Why, father, Dick has lightened 
our sorrow, and made us feel more 
reconciled to our loss,” said Alice. 
“Our Saviour said, ‘Blessed are they 
that mourn; for they shall be com- 
forted. ’ And does He not tell us to 
comfort one another ? ’ ’ 

“ I told Captain Brown before he 
died and left you in my care, Dick, 
that I would take you into my heart 
and home, for I knew how dearly Joe 
loved you,” said Mr. Westburne, as 
he embraced Dick. 

And Nurse Ashby pressed a kiss 
upon his brow. 

Jesus had sent the Comforter, His 
Holy Spirit, to their hearts, and soft- 
ened their grief. 


ALICE AND KATE MARRY 

DEATH OF MR. WEST- 
BURNE 


'Tis the wink of an eye^ 'tis the draught 
of a hreath, 

From the blossom of health to the pale- 
ness of deaths 

From the gilded saloon to the hier and 
the shroud ; 

Oh ! lohy should the sprit of mortal he 
proud f ” 



CHAPTER XV. 


ALICE AND KATE MARRY. 

T hree years had rolled by. 

Alice was married to Doctor 
Bently, whom she had learned 
to love while a nurse in the army, and 
had gone to her home in New York 
City. Dick had taken possession of 
his estate in Havana, where he had 
gone. Tommy was established in his 
father’s business. Mr. Westburne was 
resting from the toil and care of busi- 


MARRIAGES 


ness life, and Kate was still the house- 
hold angel. 

A few days before Dick de Guevara 
left Havana for his adopted country, 
Kate received a letter from him which 
gladdened all their hearts. 

‘‘Dear Kate, — Tell father. Tom- 
my, and nurse that when this letter 
reaches you I shall be on my journey 
home. How I have yearned for the 
time to come when I could write you 
this, — when my affairs would be ar- 
ranged so I could leave them, and 
come home to the hearts I love, and 
who love me. Your Dick. ” 

“ Father, Dick can use his title now 
— Count de Guevara, ’ ’ said Tommy. 

‘ ‘ He will always be Dick to me. 
Tommy,” said Kate ; and as Mr. 
Westburne and Tommy laughed, Kate 
changed the subject by saying, — 
304 


MARRIAGES 


^^You know, father, that Alice, little 
Ruth, and the doctor will visit us this 
summer, and they will be so glad to 
see Dick. ’ ’ 

Dick Guevara, or Count de Guevara, 
w«as a fine specimen of a Spanish noble- 
man, tall and dignified, with an intelli- 
gent face ; while his frank nature 
endeared him to his friends and the 
family, who received him with open 
arms on his return. 

“Kate,” said Dick, as they were 
walking in the garden a few days after 
his return, “will you give me the 
answer now which you promised to 
give me when I should return from 
Havana. Will you love me and be 
my wife ? ” 

“Dick,” replied Kate, with a joy- 
ful smile, in which sadness was blended, 
“ on that day, so long ago, when dear 
Joe left us, and you were so lonely, 
and craved our love, I saw that I 
305 


MARRIAGES 


should have to love you, and I have 
loved you ever since; but, Dick, when 
I am your wife, you will not take me 
away from father and Tommy and 
dear nurse Ashby, will you ? Think 
how much they will miss me; ” and 
Kate laid her head upon Dick’s shoul- 
der. 

“You shall not leave home nor 
country, dear heart. Oh Kate! what 
happiness, what peace, to have you to 
love and cherish all my life ! ’ ’ and Dick 
put his arm around her, and kissed her. 

“You must tell father and Tommy, ’ ’ 
said Kate. 

‘ ‘ I told them before I went to 
Havana, darling.” 

“Kate,” said Mr. Westburne that 
evening, as she bade her father good- 
night, “I rejoice that you have con- 
sented to become Dick’s wife. It was 
the dearest wish of Joe’s heart.” 

306 


MARRIAGES 


‘ ‘ And I am glad also, ’ ’ said Tommy. 
“ I was afraid some other girl would 
get Dick. ” 

Dick and Kate were married in the 
autumn, before Doctor Bentley’s family 
went home. 

“Tell us, Dick,” said Tommy one 
evening, “ how did your slaves receive 
their freedom ? ’ ’ 

“ My father had been a kind mas- 
ter,” replied Dick, “and I found the 
negroes on my plantation in a better 
condition than they are on many of the 
Cuban plantations. The first thing I 
did was to arrange more comfortable 
quarters for the few old rheumatic 
slaves that were past labor, which I did 
by taking a wing off the palace, and 
making it into rooms where they could 
live free from the dampness of the 
cabins on the plantations. Then the 
carpenters built new cottages, and re- 
307 


MARRIAGES 


paired the old cabins. I took one of 
the store-houses, and had it arranged 
for a school-house for the children; 
and I have employed the agent’s 
daughter, Miss Gonsalves, to teach 
them to read, write, and cipher. One 
Sunday morning I called all the ne- 
groes together in the school-house, and 
told them that they were no longer my 
slaves, that they were freemen. At 
first they did not understand me ; but 
when I told them that they were their 
own masters, and could earn money, 
like the white man, some of them 
asked, ‘ Where shall we go ? Mas’r is 
good to us.’ I told them that they 
could live on the plantation and work 
as they had done, and I would pay 
them every Saturday night for their 
labor, so long as they were honest and 
faithful. One of the oldest negroes 
shouted, ‘ We will never leave mas’r I 
Hallelujah ! de day ob jubilee has 
308 


MARRIAGES 


come ! ’ and I left them in the school- 
house, singing and shouting, ‘ Nobody 
owns dis nigger but de Lord. Glory 
hallelujah ! ’ Mr. Gonsalves, one of 
my agents, told me, the day before 1 
left Havana, that the negroes had never 
worked so well, nor seemed so happy, 
since he had been on the plantation ; 
and he said he thought that it would 
be the best thing for Cuba if the slaves 
were all liberated. 

Another year had passed. Alice 
and little Ruth came from New York 
to spend the summer months. 

‘ ‘ Kate, ’ ’ said Alice a few days after 
her arrival, “ I see a great change in 
father. He is so thin, and has such a 
far-off look. 

“ I have noticed that look, and so 
has nurse Ashby,” replied Kate. 

“Nurse,” said Mr. Westburne one 
309 


MARRIAGES 


morning, “ I wish you would have my 
wife’s chamber aired. I want to use it 
as my sleeping-room hereafter. Since 
Ruth left it, I have made it an oratory, 
where I could go to meditate and 
pray ; but last night, in my sleep, I 
saw my wife in her chamber. She 
stood by the bed, then she smiled as 
she pointed to her arm-chair, and van- 
ished through the west window. Per- 
haps it is better to use the room 
now. ” 

So the sunbeams came into the win- 
dows. The fire glowed upon the 
hearth ; and the family gathered again 
in the mother’s chamber, sacred by 
many sweet recollections. 

It was at the close of a beautiful 
Sabbath day. Mr. Westburne was 
sitting in his arm-chair as the family 
entered the room. There was a smile 
and a far-off look upon his face as he 
repeated, — 


310 


MARRIAGES 


^ Oh ! ivhy should the spirit of mortal 
he proud f 

Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying 
cloud, 

A flash of the lightning, a break of the 
wave. 

He passeth from life to his rest in the 
grave. ’ 

“It is humility, and that simple, 
childlike confidence and faith in Christ, 
which draws our Heavenly Father to 
us ; and, my dear children. He has 
softened, and He will soften, all your 
afflictions. Kate, ’ ’ he continued, ‘ ‘ will 
you and Alice sing ‘ Departed Days ’ ? ’ ’ 
Kate went to the organ and played 
while Alice sang, — 

‘ ‘ Sweet voices from the spirit-land I 
hear ; ” 

and, as the song ended, Mr. West- 


MARRIAGES 


burne whispered, “ They come, be- 
loved ones,” and with a long sigh he 
joined them on “ the distant shore.” 

At first the family could not realize 
that their dear father had left them. 
They thought he was sleeping in his 
wife’s arm-chair by the open window. 
The brilliant sunset clouds were scat- 
tered over the heavens, and the even- 
ing star appeared in the sky as the 
clouds faded away. 

How can we mourn a death like 
that ? ’ ’ asked the Count de Guevara, 
in a low voice. 

“ I believe he saw his loved ones 
coming to bear him away from his 
heaven on earth to his eternal heaven 
above,” replied Nurse Ashby. 

And thus they comforted each other, 
learning to grow strong under affliction, 
and abiding in Jesus, who whispered, 
“ Let not your hearts be troubled. 
My peace I leave with you. I go to 
312 


MARRIAGES 


prepare a place for you, and ye shall 
see your loved ones again. ’ ’ 

Time passed, and a little Joe had 
come, to gladden the hearts of Kate 
and Dick ; and every May it was little 
Joe who went to decorate with flag 
and flowers the grave of his uncle 
Joe. 

In the meantime Brazil had peace- 
fully liberated her slaves, but the 
tyranny of the Spanish rulers in Cuba 
was causing skirmishes throughout that 
island. It was the greatest desire and 
prayer of the Count de Guev&a’s life 
to see slavery abolished from his native 
land, and he would often say to Kate, 
“I shall live to see that blessed 
day.” 

Thirty-five years had passed since 
the Civil War, and General Guevara 
lived to see his prayer answered; and 
bravely did that noble and gallant sol- 
313 


MARRIAGES 


dier fight to help break that cruel 
bondage. No slave can breathe upon 
the shores of the New World to-day. 

Surely “ God moves in a mysterious 
way His wonders to perform ’ ’ ! 



CONCLUSION 


Now freedom from every mountain height 
Unfolds her standard to the air. 

She tore the azure rohe of night, 

And set the stars of glory there. 

Forever float that standard sheet 
Where breathes no slave from sea to sea ; 
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet 
And Freedom's banner over thee. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

CONCLUSION. 

I N closing this simple story of an 
old-fashioned home-life, how many 
of its dear readers have been re- 
minded of their childhood home? — the 
old town with its street-pump, the 
town crier, and ‘ ‘ the master so cruel 
and grim; ” the kind father, and the 
gentle mother who taught them the 
little prayer, “ Now I lay me down to 
sleep. 


CONCLUSION 


Oh, fathers and mothers, give your 
children a happy home, for there you 
can sow the seed for good or evil in 
their future lives. 

Our hearts rejoiced when we read in 
the newspaper the plan to observe the 
old-home week in many places in Mas- 
sachusetts. May it spread throughout 
the United States! 

We are sure God’s blessing will rest 
upon these reunions. How many 
chords which have long slumbered in 
the heart will be awakened on a visit 
to the old home again. 

Perhaps some tender mother's love 
First awoke the accent there ^ 

Raised childhood' s thoughts to things 
above, 

And taught the early prayer. 

But manhood’s years a tale has told 
Of sorrow, sin, and pain ; 


CONCLUSION 


Then call the wanderer to the fold, 
Oh, touch those chords again ! 

Go ! like thy Master live to hless. 
And iveep o'er others' ivoes. 

Each fervent prayer He will confess. 
And every tear that flows. 

Go ! seek to he the soul's true friend. 
And thou mayest make a strain 
Which shall in songs of glory end. 
Oh, touch those chords again ! " 


J. G. Ct’PPLES, Publisher, Boston, U.S.A. 


PRINTED AND BOUND BY F, H, GILSON 
COMPAN V AT THE STANHOPE PRESS, 
54 TO 60 STANHOPE STREET, BOSTON, 


U.S.A 



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